And One Go ALone
by norah-hunt
Summary: After the last great rising, it is not Merriman that is destined to go alone. High magic has other plans for Will Stanton. And it is the will of the gods which Will is transported into the world of Tortall, in which Alanna of Trebond masquerades as a bo
1. The Music Of The Old Ones

Title: And One Go Alone Author: Norah-hunt  
  
Summary: After the last great rising, it is not Merriman that is destined to go alone. High magic has other plans for Will Stanton, last of the Old Ones. And it is the will of the gods which Will is transported into the world of Tortall, in which Alanna of Trebond masquerades as a boy, and Roger the Duke of Conte plots to overthrow the throne. Yes, the Dark has been banished from our world, but it small wings still have some control and power in the distant places of the universe, outside of our time. It's a Dark Is Rising/Song Of The Lioness Crossover, so please humour me and read it. :p  
  
A/N: hey. This is my second attempt at a fic, the first try didn't go so well. I kinda just gave up on it. Hopefully it won't the same for this one. Anyways, I've had this idea for a bit, and I thought I'd try my hand at writing it out. Meh. More babbling at the end of the chapter. O and if anyone happens to read it, a little help at creating/improving my title might be nice.  
  
When Will awoke, the sun had not risen yet. There was no friendly ray of light peaking from the space where his two curtains met. Will Stanton, last of the Old Ones, did not give thought to his early rising. There were other things on his mind. Yesterday's happenings most of all. He could still feel the fear and excitement of race against time of the day before. He saw Merriman, Jane, Simon, Barney, Bran and him standing each holding up one of the six Signs of the Light, a circle quartered by a cross. He felt the icy malice as the Dark pounded down on them with all of their evil strength. But above all, he remembered, the joy, the triumph, and the relief when Bran cut the silver blossom from the Midsummer Tree. But within this whirl of thoughts, one part of him was still thinking rationally, and was not a bubbling stew of emotion. But what of the prophecy? It reminded him. Merriman, nor any of the others did not leave. Who will be the one to go alone? A strange feeling of slight uneasiness washed over Will as he remembered this. He also thought he heard a whisper of a soft, mysterious melody. At this, he jerked his head up abruptly, but it was gone as quickly as it had come. The music and drawn out all thoughts Will had of yesterday. It was time to focus on today.  
  
It was time to get up, Will decided. No bustle of noise could be heard downstairs. Will's aunt and uncle must not be awake yet, thought Will. Quickly, Will dressed, he put on a worn pair of trousers and pulled a t- shirt over his head. Will walked towards his bedroom door, and as an after thought, walked back over to his dresser and pulled out a sweater. It could do no harm, the small voice in his head rationed, After all, these Welsh hills can get chilly.  
  
Careful, as to not make any loud noises, which might disturb his aunt and uncle, Will tiptoed out of his room and onto the stair landing. He gingerly put his sneakered foot down onto the first step. It creaked. Will cursed silently, and then wondered why he should feel such a need for stealth and quiet? He couldn't answer the question, but instinct told him that he was acting correctly. He reached the bottom of the stairwell without another creak, and Will made a mental note to avoid the top step, if he were ever to sneak out of this pleasant Welsh farmhouse again.  
  
Once outside, Will's instinct of an Old One once again told him to move quietly. This time, he also found that it directed him where to go as well. He walked purposely out of his aunt and uncle's farmyard and into the fields. He could hear the soft, delicate melody again. He strained to catch more of it. It came from the west. Hmm. Said the Old One of Will's mind, West is where the Old Way lies.  
  
But Will followed the music. Its rippling notes, calling to him, beckoning to come closer, closer to the Old Way. It was the song of the Light, surely it could not lead him to harm.  
  
It was a grey morning. The clouds hung thick and heavy among the Welsh countryside. A damp cool mist had begun to creep in, and Will was glad that he had brought his sweater. The long grass, which blanked the hills, wet the bottom of Will's jeans with dew. As Will walked on, he noticed that the fog had grown thicker. At first he gave no thought to this, but then, as he neared the Old Way, Will looked around him and saw that we has no longer in South Wales. He was in a world of grey mist whirling around in large eddies. He looked back the way he had come, but he could not see his uncle's farm.  
  
He was one step away from the Old Way. The sweet music was louder now, not as faint. Will sensed that it traveled along the Old Way, like water in a river, gushing downstream. Five will return, and one go alone. Will heard Merriman's voice in his head, reciting the last bit of the prophecy, which had not come true.  
  
With a shock, Will realized that he must be the one to go alone. The music from the Old Way beckoned more sweetly and softly than ever. And then, Will knew that this was his way, not just his way as an Old One, but his way to continue his journey alone. With a deep breath to steady himself, Will stepped onto the Old Way.  
  
Will instantly felt the familiar giddiness that came with travel through time. He felt himself plucked from his feet by a sudden, strong gust of wind. The music of the Light was all that he could hear now, that same lilting melody, with its rippling chords. The sound of the music grew more intense as the wind picked up strength. Will shut his eyes against his dizziness.  
  
Will was riding the wind faster than he had ever done before, faster than he though possible. The wind buffeted all around him, pushing him roughly forward. Will was caught up the in the fierce current of the Light in the Old Way.  
  
And then, it stopped. Just when the music of the Light had become deafening, and the wind had blown itself into a gale, Will found himself falling to the ground. He landed with a soft thump and a gasp as his breath was knocked out of him.  
  
Will opened his eyes. And nothing could have prepared him for what he saw. Not his senses of an Old One, not the teachings of Merriman or the Lady, not even his gift of Gramarye could have helped him. With a sharp stab of fear, Will wondered how foolish he was to have stepped onto the Old Way.  
  
A/N: Yay! Hopefully you have been patient enough to at least make it to the end of the chapter before you decided this fic was crap. Anyways, like I said before, I'd really appreciate some help in the naming of this fic, as I've spent my imagination for one day. PLEASEPLASEPLASE R&R! :P:D I'd love it if you did. And if you leave a review, I'll be sure to reply to you in the next chapter or by email, if you leave your address,  
  
Cheers, -Norah 


	2. The Great Doors Of Time

Title: And One Go Alone Author: Norah-hunt  
  
Summary: After the last great rising, it is not Merriman that is destined to go alone. High magic has other plans for Will Stanton, last of the Old Ones. And it is the will of the gods which Will is transported into the world of Tortall, in which Alanna of Trebond masquerades as a boy, and Roger the Duke of Conte plots to overthrow the throne. Yes, the Dark has been banished from our world, but it small wings still have some control and power in the distant places of the universe, outside of our time. It's a Dark Is Rising/Song Of The Lioness Crossover, so please humour me and read it. :p  
  
Oops. Last time I forgot the disclaimer. O well. Disclaimer: All of the characters mentioned in my story belong to the glorious Susan Cooper and the immeasurable Tamora Pierce.  
  
A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed me. Coughnobodycough. It really makes me feel like people want to read my fic, although I suppose I didn't really give you a chance, as I only published it yesterday. Anyways, sorry for the short chapters, I'm prone to writing them. And there will be Alanna and co. in the story, I just haven't gotten around to it yet. I also have another fic called North of Nowhere, But Still We're Somewhere (lame I know, but as you may have noticed, I don't really have a knack for making up titles :p). Anyways, like I said before, I've kind of given up on it, but if you guys really want me to continue, then I will. Maybe. Sorry, that's just me being stubborn. Anyways, onto the fic. Thanks for reading this!  
  
Will's eyes grew wide with amazement. He was no longer in some remote part of South Wales, wandering the hills in the early morn. The grassy, rolling countryside had disappeared, leaving Will in a densely wooded forest. Enormous and ancient oak trees towered of above him, and Will felt dizzy. His ears filled with the sounds of the woodland. As a way to fight down his growing alarm, Will listened to them. He heard the harsh thud of a woodpecker, drilling through the rough bark of some distant tree. He heard the soft rustle of a squirrel running somewhere unseen through the leafy treetops. And then, he heard it. That same faint, whispering melody, which had called him to the Old Way and brought him here. All other noises of the forest melted away as Will heard the music of the Old Ones.  
  
Hardly daring to trust his ears, Will lay facing the great, green- leafed bows of the trees about him. The ground under him was mossy and soft. The moist smell of dirt filled his nostrils. The smell was not unpleasant, it was fresh and natural. The tall trees grew all around him, and with his gift of Gramarye, Will knew that this was an old forest, almost as ancient as the Old Ones themselves. It was also filled with memory of times joyful and sad. His presence had stirred the great oaks awake, and gentle breeze began rustle in their branches. Will looked up, and could barely see the sky. Small patches of a brilliant blue were all that was visible of the world outside this forest.  
  
The strange ringing melody called to Will persistent now. No longer a whisper, but a strong, rich voice of magic. It had sounded just like this when I stepped onto the Old Way, Will remembered, but got up to follow its sound anyway. The trees seemed to part as he passed them. It was as though the sensed his passing and quickly hastened to form a makeshift road or path for him. It had been along time since someone of his kind of rank and power and trodden among the trees of the forest. Will walked along, watching the trees slither away from him as he drew near. As he continued his walk down this strange, leafy corridor, Will looked back over his shoulder. The trees had returned to their original places, merging together so that nothing at all look odd about them. Will turned his gaze to the road before him again. Long ago he had learned not to question the will of Wild Magic.  
  
Will had walked for a long time and the booming call of the music had died to a soft hum. Although time running up and down his uncles fields in Wales had accustomed Will to such effort, he was beginning to feel his legs tire and his stomach grumbled loudly. Also, what little light had filtered through the dense treetops was also fading fast. The shadows of the trees grew long and thin all around him. And out of the approaching darkness, Will saw a faint light ahead of him. Suddenly, the air around hum pulsed with the rippling notes placed by some delicate instrument of the light. Will had only heard an instrument sound like it once before, amidst the rolling hills of South Wales. But it had been his friend that had played it then, not a mysterious musician, invisible to all of the sense.... Will shook his head. He must concentrate on the task at hand now, not of memories passed.  
  
Will cautiously approached the glowing thing in front of him. As he drew nearer, he saw that it was a tree, a rowan tree. The light, which pulsed from it, was an eerie aurora of white light, flecked with gold thin golden veins. With wide eyes, Will walked closer to the glowing tree, until he could reach out and touch it. Through the strange light, he could see the silvery bark of the rowan, as well as its light green leaves. Without thinking, Will reached out and placed his hand upon the bark of the tree. His fingers twitched. They were filled with a slightly electric tingling sensation, but Will could not pull his hand away if he wanted to. It felt as if they had become a part of this tree, an extra limb perhaps. Wills fingers jerked around until they found peculiar shaped spot in the relatively smooth surface of the bark. Will placed his and over it, and with his fingers traced around the edge of this woodcarving. For that what it must be, Will thought. As his fingers finished their journey around the carving, Will felt a familiar excitement well up inside him. The carving, it was no ordinary carving, just as this three wasn't. The tree was of rowan; the sacred tree of the Light and the carving was of a circle, quartered smoothly by a cross. Another powerful symbol of the Old Ones.  
  
A twig snapped behind Will. Will jumped, and whirled around, withdrawing his hand from the rowan tree. Before him, stood the great wooden doors of Time and Will knew that it had not been chance which had led him to this clearing and bright light of the rowan tree. Slowly, the Great Doors opened for him, revealing an abyss of total blackness. Will walked towards this passage way through time, his feet only padding on the soft moss and grass below him.  
  
When both feet had stepped through the Great Doors of Time, Will heard the doors swing shut behind him. With their closure, Will was left in absolute darkness. The inking blackness consumed everything, and Will's sharp eyes could detect no traces of light. Slight tremors of fear had begun to stir inside Will. The great dark was menacing and empowering. For the second time that day, Will began to doubt his judgement in following the strange music of the Old Ones. And then, a light flared up in front of Will and he could see again. He let a small breath of relief. He was in the similar, safe hall of the Light.  
  
Ahead of him, Will could see a fire once again burning in a great hearth. Two high-backed chairs still flanked either side of the large stone fireplace, just as they had when Will had last been here. There was also the long table, on which sat the candle ring, a great iron ring, quartered by a cross. It was the candle ring, which he and the other Old Ones had completed when he had won the sign of Fire so many years ago. But the tapestries on the walls, they had changed. They told different tales now. Knights with blazing eyes and glittering swords danced upon the tapestry, their majestic figures woven into the cloth with amazing skill and detail. Once particular figure caught his eye and held it. It was of a night, small and not wearing armor. The figure wore what seemed to be a leather jerkin and held defiantly in front of it a round shield with a golden lioness on it, proudly rearing onto its hind legs. But what caused Will to pause and stare at the small fierce figure was it eyes, hair and blade. The small warriors hairs has a coppery colour, unique from any of the other knights woven into the tapestry. Its eyes were a deep shade of amethyst, filled with determination, loyalty and secrets. But its sword, Will gazed at it longingly. It was fine crafted, light and deadly. Made by the Old Ones, Will thought.  
  
A deep voice from ahead of him called Will back from the tapestry to the Great Hall of Time. "Aha, my Watchman, I see you've made it here." Will whooped aloud in delight as he recognized the voice. He ran towards the high-backed chairs by the hearth.  
  
"Merriman!" said Will.  
  
"Yes, it is I", said Merriman, "But you have be brought here for a task much more serious that a reunion of old friends."  
  
"You see," said another voice, female this time, but just as commanding, "The Dark, though blasted through time in your world, has not so readily left from here. You are in Tortall, Will Stanton. Here, magic already exists and so the Dark has more power. More of a foot hold, you might say. But without the strength of its brother Dark in your world, its grasp is fast slipping"  
  
Will turned around to see a beautiful woman sitting in the other high- backed chair by the fire. Her eyes were of a brilliant emerald green colour, her lips full and seductive. They were a deep red, and contrasted sharply with the perfect porcelain of her skin. He face was perfect, too perfect almost. Will frowned slightly at this.  
  
"You do not show courtesy to a lady by frowning at her, Old One." Said the lady in the chair. "You know me, this is just the first time I have appeared to you in this body. Remember, I told you I had been called by many names over the years of my existence." "You're the Lady," Will breathed. "Yes, I am. Although, here I am called the Great Mother Goddess. Merriman is known as Mithros." Merriman spoke up again, his voice soft and serious. "Come now, Will, we have much to talk about and discuss. There is no time to be spared."  
  
A/N: Its me again, and I just wanted to say REVIEWREVIEWREVIEW!!!!!!!!!pleasepleasepleaseplease!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm open to flamers, as long as they aren't too mean, although they don't work wonders on the self-esteem.  
  
Anyways, please review. Like I said before, If you review, I'll either reply to you in the next chapter or email you if you leave your address,  
  
Cheers, -Norah 


	3. The Tapestry On The Wall

Title: And One Go Alone Author: Norah-hunt  
  
Summary: After the last great rising, it is not Merriman that is destined to go alone. High magic has other plans for Will Stanton, last of the Old Ones. And it is the will of the gods which Will is transported into the world of Tortall, in which Alanna of Trebond masquerades as a boy, and Roger the Duke of Conte plots to overthrow the throne. Yes, the Dark has been banished from our world, but it small wings still have some control and power in the distant places of the universe, outside of our time. It's a Dark Is Rising/Song Of The Lioness Crossover, so please humour me and read it. :p  
  
Disclaimer: Will, Alanna etc all belong to Susan Cooper and Tamora Pierce, both extremely talented writers, from which I whish I could compare myself to.  
  
Replies to Reviewers:  
  
First of all, to all of you: THANKS SO MUCH FOR READING MY FIC!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
  
Now the personal thanks. Sorry if I forget anyone. My most sincere apologies.  
  
Lady Katia: lol. Thanks! Unfortunately, I don't think I'll be updating two days in a row all the time. It was in a fit of inspiration that I wrote those two chapters; sorry they're so short by the way. But to me, I think its maybe better to have a couple short chapters, then to have long ones that take forever to write. I really love it when I get reviewers, so thanks again! And as for how this will turn up? I have an idea, but that's for me to know. : P except, sorry, but the next chapter might take a little bit longer to come up. My teachers decided that April was the month that they wanted every single assignment known to people on Earth due be due within a span of about two weeks. Blah. O well. Thanks so much for reviewing!  
  
CPAnthoni: hey, thanks for reviewing! I'm glad you like the crossover, this is only my second attempt at a fic, and the last *cough*died*cough* is not being continued right now, although, if you read what I've got and like it, I might consider trying to pick it up again. Meh.  
  
Memet: Don't worry; this chapter might move the story along a bit. Thanks for starting me off on my reviews! I really appreciate it! :D cheers, I hope you like chapter three!  
  
A/N: Hopefull this chapter is a tiny bit longer than the others. O, and if the characters are OCC, please bear with me. Cheers and enjoy.  
  
"You are to go to Corus, Will, the capital city of this land." Merriman said, "And there, you will pose as a squire, training to become a knight."  
  
Will couldn't resist it, "But why to the palace?"  
  
Merriman looked at him, "The Lady and I have reason to believe that the messenger of the Dark will be there. Although it is dangerous, the Dark has channelled most of its failing strength into this one person, this one sorcerer hoping that he will gain power over Tortall. We do not know exactly who they are, as the Dark has shielded them from our eyes. For this you must be doubly wary of whom you trust." "It is extremely foolish to place so much power in one mortal," Merriman continued, "but the Dark here is desperate, and like a trapped, wounded beast they will try everything they can to save themselves. You must be careful, Will, never do anything foolhardy and never let anyone know of your gift."  
  
"Yes, I understand," was Will's answer.  
  
The Lady then spoke. "Your name here, Will Stanton, is William of Britannia. If anyone were to ask, you trained in the western fief of Britannia as a page under your knight master." "No one must guess that you are our warrior of the Light. Not the Dark, nor anyone in the palace. To make your masquerade real, you must take this ring." Will noticed for the first time that the Lady was not they only one to wear great jewel on their fingers. Merriman lifted up his hand to reveal a polished silver ring. Although, on the top of ring, where a gem would normally sit, there was nothing. Nothing that is, except for a small round circle, quartered by a cross. They ring was beautiful crafted. All of the metal crossbars were joined together seamlessly. Will look at it admiringly, it was stunning. Merriman slipped the ring from his finger and handed it to Will. Will gazed at it, marvelling at its flawless surface. As it touched his flesh he felt a warm tingling sensation spread through his hand and up his arm. Soon his whole body tingled with the power of the Light. Will slid the ring onto a finger on his right hand. The tingling stopped. Will looked up at Merriman amazed.  
  
"That ring," said Merriman, "has given you the strength and knowledge of one the greatest knights ever to walk this earth. With it, you will be able to keep up as a squire in the palace, as this ring will provide you with all of the knowledge and training that a boy your age would know. Although, you must be careful to display only enough of your newfound skills so that you may pass all of the drills and tests that you are required to undergo as a squire."  
  
The Lady, who had been quiet for quite some time now, spoke up.  
  
"We are depending on you Will. The Light of this realm needs you to vanquish the Dark from these lands. It will not be easy, as quests never are. You will know who to trust and who to not, but remember, never ever tell anyone, other than those of the Light, your mission at the palace."  
  
"In order to defeat the Dark, you must defeat its creature, although it can only be killed by using the Light's Thing of Power in this world. " Merriman broke in, "This Thing of Power will not be easy to find. Long ago, the Old Ones lived here in times of peace, when the Dark had gone to lick its wounds for another thousand years or so. In that time, the great forgers of the Light hammered steel and magic together to form the Blade of the Light, Mìriel. Then, as we thought the Dark still hurt from their last defeat, they sprang on us, like an owl upon its prey in the blackness of midnight. They destroyed everything we had here. Except for the sword, it was too well hidden, but now, there are none who know where it lies. But it is your destiny to find this sword. Remember Will Stanton, you must slay the Dark's mortal creature, and your quest will be complete."  
  
Throughout all of this, Will had been silent. Now, he spoke.  
  
"When am I to leave for the palace?" he enquired.  
  
"As soon as can be arranged. You'll need a horse of course, as well as clothes to fit the latest fashions and arms to defend yourself."  
  
All three of them looked at Will's old, slightly battered jeans and his worn, grass stained sweater. He certainly didn't look like a noble of Tortall. Will felt slightly embarrassed under the harsh gaze of the two commanding figures. And then, Will noticed Merriman and the Lady slowly began to fade, just as the Lady had done the first time Will was in the Great Hall. Will cried out in alarm.  
  
"We are needed elsewhere, my friend," said Merriman, "Remember what we have told you, and you will find that everything is ready."  
  
"Goodbye, Will." Said the Lady.  
  
"Goodbye," echoed Will, slightly sorrowful. It had been so long since he had last seen the Lady. Now, she was leaving him again. The two figures of Merriman and the Lady faded completely from the Hall.  
  
With a sigh, Will turned back towards the entrance of the Hall.  
  
Well, thought Will, I figure I have a long journey ahead of me; I may as well get started now. The large fire crackled in agreement. Will looked at it and whispered two words, very softly in Old Speech.  
  
"Go out."  
  
*************  
  
Gareth the Younger waited out side the door of his father's office, with a feeling of slight puzzlement. As he waited, he examined the majestic hall in which he stood. The floor was of marble, with many different colours, all cut and shaped to form the red crest of Naxen. Light filled the room from a large arched window that looked out over the palace grounds, and then the bustling city of Corus. Richly coloured curtains of crimson flanked the tall panes of glass, and the intricate designs embroidered expertly into the fine cloth glinted brightly in the sunlight. The walls were of stone, each wall covered with a fantastic tapestry. The tapestries told of the legends of Naxen, remembered Gary, myths that had yet to come to pass.  
  
Being a young knight of Tortall, Gary grew bored easily. He walked over to one of the tapestries, with a mind of amusing himself. Here was an interesting one, thought Gary. He saw a great battle being fought, between to men. One had dark hair, almost black. The other's head resembled something of a fireball. Fiery locks of hair whirled around as the figure weaved through the steps of its deadly dance. But it was not these figures that caught Gary's eye.  
  
What did was the form of a small person in the background of the scene. The figure stood in a corner, wearing a simple tunic of blue and silver. Gary, felt the hair on the back of his neck rise as he looked at him. The figure was small, and inconspicuous, but Gary could sense the power that radiated from this figure, no matter how humble he dressed or looked. The boy's eyes were ageless, and Gary felt as if he could drown in their expressionless blue depths. Gary noticed some small detail on the hand of this strange figure, but before he could examine it closely, he heard the door to his father, the Lord Provist's, private study open. "The Duke is ready to you now, master Gareth," his father's herald announced. Gary nodded his thanks, remembering that he had been called by his father to speak to him. Tearing his eyes way from the figure on the tapestry, Gary promised himself that he would return to look at this person more closely.  
  
Once inside the study Gary's father, Gareth of Naxen the Older looked his son in the eye.  
  
"You have no squire, yes?" He said bluntly.  
  
"No, your Grace," replied Gary.  
  
"It is not proper for a knight of the realm of Tortall to go without a squire, my son."  
  
"Yes, your Grace" said Gary tonelessly. It was the only response he could make to his father.  
  
"Gary," said the Duke, addressing his son by his name for the first time, "There is a boy coming to the palace soon, to train. For the previous years he has trained with his knight master, Lord Merriman, learning the ways of a page. Now, my old friend has contacted me, saying that he feels he can no longer teach his this boy anything that he does not already know. I want you, as a favour to Lord Merriman and myself to take the boy as your squire."  
  
Gary's eyes widened in shock. Whatever he had been expecting from his father, a reprimand, praise, punishment, it was not this. His father wanted him, to take on a squire. The big knight opened and shut his mouth, unable to think of something to say to this. He had not planned on taking on a squire for a while yet.  
  
Gareth the Older did not look impressed by his son's reaction.  
  
"Gareth," he said coolly, "I do not want to have to make my request an order. Now, will you please to this favour for me?" Under his polite tones, Gary could hear a hint of steel.  
  
"Yes, your Grace," Gary said again, "If it is your wish that I do so, then I will take on this knew boy as my Squire."  
  
The Duke then became very brisk. "Good," He said, "He is expected to arrive within the week. His family is of an ancient line of noble blood. They have a fief in the western borders of Tortall, if my memory serves me correctly. The boy's name is William of Britannia. And I expect you to show him the respect that his blood deserves."  
  
"Yes, your Grace," said Gary for the third time in their meeting.  
  
"Tomorrow you will be moving into new quarters, as you will have to have adjoining rooms with your new squire."  
  
"You may tell your closest friends of this, but please try and keep this a relative secret until the lad at least arrives here."  
  
"You may go now, son." Said Gareth the Elder, and the interview was over.  
  
Gary left his father's feeling slightly overwhelmed with such a change in events. He quickly went in search of his friends. They would have a lot to discuss this evening. All thought of the strange figure in the tapestry had been driven from Gary's mind, and he would not remember it for a long time.  
  
A/N: Phew. You made it to the end, congratulations! Please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please review! :P bubye  
  
Cheers, -Norah 


	4. GO LEAFS GO!

GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO LEAFS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You suck sens!!!! 


	5. A Trip To The Royal Forest

Title: And One Go Alone Author: Norah-hunt  
  
Summary: After the last great rising, it is not Merriman that is destined to go alone. High magic has other plans for Will Stanton, last of the Old Ones. And it is the will of the gods which Will is transported into the world of Tortall, in which Alanna of Trebond masquerades as a boy, and Roger the Duke of Conte plots to overthrow the throne. Yes, the Dark has been banished from our world, but it small wings still have some control and power in the distant places of the universe, outside of our time. It's a Dark Is Rising/Song Of The Lioness Crossover, so please humour me and read it. :p  
  
Disclaimer: Will, Alanna etc all belong to Susan Cooper and Tamora Pierce, both extremely talented writers, from which I whish I could compare myself to.  
  
Replies to Reviewers:  
  
First of all, to all of you: THANKS SO MUCH FOR READING MY FIC!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
  
Ok. Thanks to memet and elby especially. O, and lol, the go leafs go thing was just because that was the night of game 7 between Toronto and Ottawa of the Stanley Cup Playoffs. : D O and sorry it took me so long to get this chapter out, but I had, and still have a lot of homework. (damn math project!) Plus my comp's messed so it was hard to type this chapter up. Anyways, at least its really long! :P thanks for being patient with me and I hope you like it! Don't forget to review! I'm not even thinking about writing the next chapter until I get at least three or 4 more reviews. Anyways, enough chatter, here it is.  
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Now the personal thanks. Sorry if I forget anyone. My most sincere apologies. Moonlight snorted impatiently and pawed the dark earth. Alanna agreed with her mount. They had been riding our an hour now. Gary had called Alanna and all her friends out on an evening ride through the Royal Forest that ran all along the outside of Corus, but then swooped up close to the Palace walls. When Jonathon enquired as to why they were going out to the forest, at night especially, Gary just shrugged his broad shoulders and blandly: "I'll tell you all later, once we're out in the forest," then he added a bit more mysteriously, "but we mustn't be overheard." They had to be content with Gary's cryptic response.  
  
Even Gary himself didn't exactly know why he felt that his message should with the utmost secrecy and caution. He didn't know why he was even taking them out into the Royal Forest. After all, he had only to tell his friends about the upcoming arrival of some distant noble boy coming to the Palace as a squire. His squire. But even so, a deep part of himself instinctively told Gary that this was the right course of action.  
  
Ever since his father, Gareth the Elder, had told Gary the would-be- squire's name, he had felt an icy coldness, probing experimentally around him. But it was elusive, when Gary tried to grab it with his mind, to hold it still for one moment so that he could get a better idea of what it was, it disappeared. More than once Gary was left wondering if that strange evil power was even there. Gary felt an unwavering foreboding for what ever that thing was. He shuddered, "Yes," thought Gary, "This is fore the best."  
  
It was a fairly long trek to the place Gary wanted to go to, about four leagues from the northernmost side of the Palace. Gary and his friends had arranged to meet up after dinner, leaving in staggered pairs so that no one would be suspicious. There would be nobody to miss them after dinner. Not tonight at least, there were no parties.  
  
Gary could tell that his friends were all fighting internal battles between common sense and sceptics and loyalty, patience and curiosity for their friend. Gary hoped that the latter would win, what he had to say was too important to be spat back at him by an angry remark. He glanced back at the riders behind him. The battle didn't look so good with Alan. The small boy looked annoyed and fit to burst with questions. Once again, Gary wondered if he was right in dragging his friends all the way out to the heart of the Palace Forest only to tell them that he was taking on a new squire. And once again, Gary quashed this thought.  
  
"Besides," he reasoned with himself, "It was too late to turn back now. It'd be even worse to drag them three quarters of the way to where I want to go, and three quarters of the way back, without telling them anything. I will not appear a fool." Gary shook his head, as if by doing so he would rid himself of all his deeply confusing thoughts. To get his mind off that weird force and the uncertainty of this journey, Gary decided to concentrate on his surroundings.  
  
Gary had to admit, the Palace Forest was beautiful at night, in a haunting, eerie sort of way. Deep inside of it, the thick treetops blocked all but little patches of the dark nocturnal sky. Gary could only see slivers of the velvety blackness of the world above, dark velvet studded with small, bright diamonds. Gary recognized a few constellations and even remembered a couple of their names. Down below the great heavens, though, trees grew tall all around him. Large oaks towered over them, the tops of their heads not even coming close to brushing any low hanging bow. These trees were ancient, Gary knew, hundreds of years old. Scattered among the grand statues of oak were younger, smaller maple and beech trees. They marked a pleasant contrast to the huge oaks, and suddenly the Forest did not appear so threatening as it had before. That strange elusive, evil force pulled away from Gary's mind slightly.  
  
The forest trees were everywhere, even the path of which they road was narrow, which the thick trunks coming right up to the edge of it. They had to travel in single file, with Gary leading the way. All Alanna could hope was that Gary knew where he was going. It would be a nightmare if the got lost.  
  
The cool air of an early summer evening is never silent. It was filled with the noises of animals waking up to begin their nocturnal day, for in the deep woods, day was not monitored by the setting and rising of the sun. It was the dawning of the moon that signified the day's commencement. Gary heard an owl hoot in some far off tree and a small rodent rustled in a patch of undergrowth not to far away from him. Gary felt a flash of pity for the animal, for surely the poor beast would probably end up as the breakfast of that owl he had heard not so long ago.  
  
Gary's friends were strangely silent. Even Raoul did not speak; it was if the eeriness of the dark shadowy forest had oppressed any desire to talk they might have had.  
  
They were almost at the place now. Gary could see their destination up ahead.  
  
"Almost there now" Gary called back, breaking the silence between them, "Just a few more minutes."  
  
Gary was answered by an ill-tempered mutter from his short, fiery friend Alan. Alan was certainly at times a mysterious fellow. He had secrets, some Gary knew he would eventually know, but some of them, Gary wondered if Alan would ever tell anyone. It was also Alan's eyes and hair that got people's attention. His hair was coppery and shone brightly in the pale moonlight. But his eyes, they were spectacular, two clear amethyst orbs. Gary had heard more than one discussion over a mug of ale at local taverns over the strange lad with the strange eyes. Gary had to swim out of his deep, wavy sea of thoughts and concentrate on what Alan was saying. "It's about time," He muttered, "You never said we would have to ride half way across the Great Southern Desert to get here."  
  
Gary smiled inwardly at his moody friend. And at last they were there, Moon light pawed the dark impatiently. Alanna agreed with her mount.  
  
It turned out that the place they were lead to was a small clearing deep inside the Royal Forest. Gary had found it as a child, when he had one day explored to far into the forest and got lost. When he found his way back to the Palace, he kept returning here when something was troubling him. He found that the serene and silent trees calmed him. He hoped it would do the same now, he could feel that evil force biting at him, gnawing at an exposed corner of his mind in the most irritating of fashions. Long grass replaced the trees, and in the centre of the small clearing, laid the rock that Gary liked to sit on and think. Come he said. Gary and his friends dismounted and tied their reigns to a local tree branch. Then they all gathered around the large boulder. All except Alanna, that is. She placed propped herself comfortably on the ground, with her back resting on the smooth surface of the rock.  
  
"So," Raoul said, "Are you going to tell us what this is all about? Or will we wait for ever in mystery." He raised an eyebrow as he glanced around the small glade.  
  
"Yes," said Gary, "I will tell you, but first you must promise not to repeat what I tell you. To no one, not until I say. The reason we are out here is because I had no intention of being overheard by some 'passer-by.'"  
  
Ever since, he had come back from the meeting with his father earlier that day, Gary had not been acting himself. He was quiet, tight lipped. His brows were almost always furrowed in a frown, as if he had something serious to think over. Alanna would bet her last noble that whatever they were about hear from their friend had something to do with what had passed between Gary and his father.  
  
Gary took a deep breath and plunged into his news: "I'm going to take on a squire." The words gushed forth from his mouth almost eagerly, as if he were freeing himself of a burden, just by telling them.  
  
Everyone, even dark and quiet Alex, looked at Gary questioningly. Raoul frowned at this sudden change of events. He remembered just yesterday that Gary had told him that under no circumstances was he going to take on a squire. "I don't want a squire, nor do I need one." Gary had said, his deep voice resolute. "I'm a young man yet, and certainly do not need a young boy tailing me like a lackey while I go about my business. "  
  
"Look," Gary said to the row of curious faces peering at him, "Its not as if I have a choice in the matter. O, I know I've said that I'd never take a squire, but father ordered me. And you know you can't disobey the Provost, even if you are his son. Father wants me to take the boy on as a favour to him and some old noble named Lord Merriman. Really, I have half a mind to refuse the boy when he arrives and send him right back to where he comes from and belongs. And where ever that is, it certainly isn't in the Palace as my squire."  
  
"Well," said Jonathon, crown prince of Tortall, speaking for the first time since they had begun their journey from a small gate in the north wall to Gary's small grove, "What's the lad's name and where does he come from?" he asked.  
  
Gary shot them an amused look, which beneath it hovered only barely concealed snobbery, which can sometimes snare even the most fair-minded and kind people. Needless to say, Gary was one of those people, but he really did not want a squire, and as a result, had a certain prejudice towards this unknown boy,  
"The lad?" Gary echoed, "Well, this fellow has a bit of an odd name, if I've ever heard one. He's called William of Britannia. I myself have never heard of the place, but my Father says that it's a small fief on the western most part of Tortall's borders. It sounds to me more like an old castle from a farfetched legend or tale. Anyways, my lord Duke has said that he was trained as a page, under his Knight Master Lord Merriman, and now must come to the Palace to continue his training."  
  
Raoul frowned slightly, "But why take us all out here, Gary?" he said, "Why all the secrecy? I know this is something important to you, put really, did we have to ride all the way out here?"  
  
"That I don't know," answered Gary truthfully, "but it just felt right that we should go where there would be absolutely no chance that someone could eavesdrop. Plus, my Father specifically said to me that only you were to know about this boy. He didn't want the whole Palace in an uproar before the lad even got halfway to Corus."  
  
"Yes," broke in Alex thoughtfully, "When is your new squire going to arrive?"  
  
Alanna felt herself stiffen, she hadn't once forgotten that Alex had once been Duke Roger's squire. Nor had she forgotten her suspicions.  
  
"Within the week, I'm told," replied Gary, "I'm to move into adjoining quarters as early as tomorrow even. But here's one thing I can tell you for sure; they certainly aren't wasting anytime getting ready for the boy's arrival."  
  
"No...No, they are aren't." Alanna agreed dreamily. She was extremely tired; today had been and hard, filled with training and a lot of physical activity. All she wanted to do was lean against the cool, smooth boulder in the centre of the clearing and sleep. Forever. Slowly, her eyelids grew heavier, and Alanna let out a huge yawn. "Perhaps for just a second I can close my eyes, no one will notice..." And with that, Alanna's eyes drooped shut.  
  
"Aahhh..." Alanna sighed contently. The round surface of the rock beneath her was comforting. This was undoubtly a very nice place to be. Surrounded by your friends; Alanna could still here there soft chatter. Discussing this new squire. Would he be snobbish? Would he know how to handle a blade well enough? How did he look? Most of all they wanted to ask him about his life as a page with a personal knight master. Slowly, sleep crept up on Alanna, like a hunter upon its prey, until she was totally snared by the trap that slumber had woven around her.  
  
Alanna slowly awoke. Surely she had only drifted off for a few moments. Yes, only a minute or two. She could still hear Jonathon and Gary and the others talking about the new squire. Then Alanna slowly opened her eyes. She had blink several times to clear her head of the last clutches of sleep. She frowned and squinted. Was it just her, or were Jonathon and the other becoming dimmer. She began to see the large forest behind them, as they slowly grew more transparent.  
"What in the world.....?" thought Alanna. The forest behind her friends got increasingly clear. Except it wasn't the same forest. No, the large oaks weren't there; they were replaced countless of smaller, but just as old and majestic, rowan trees. *The bark of the rowan tree is silver*, Alanna remembered old Maude telling her about herbs and trees. *Maude said mysteriously, some say they are the chosen trees of the Goddess and all else that is good in this world. * With a shock, Alanna realized that she herself was leaning against the stump of a rowan tree as well, the great round boulder was had disappeared with the rest of her friends and the woods. Although she was a bit confused and frightened, Alanna still had the wits to clutch the ember stone that the Great Mother Goddess had given her on their meeting last fall. And with it, what she saw amazed her. Each tree, everything was wreathed in an eerie type of white flame, some with small blue veins flickering through them. It was beautiful, in a haunting manner.  
  
A strong, female voice from behind her made Alanna leap in surprise and fright.  
"Yes, this forest is beautiful, although you wouldn't want to go wandering off. Just because something is good, does not mean it is not dangerous. Remember that, Alanna of Trebond, it is a good lesson to be learned."  
  
Alanna whirled around, and peered searchingly into the dark shadows for the speaker. She recognized that voice. "Yes," it said again, "It is I, the Great Mother Goddess, although, that is but one of my many names."  
  
Alanna felt puzzled by that cryptic answer. Although, her bewilderment could have partially to do with the Goddess was nowhere to be seen. Alanna clutched tightly to the ember stone.  
  
The Mother laughed softly. "Oh, Alanna," she said, "You cannot find me. This time I come to you as a spirit. As part of the forest. I am one with the trees, as they are a part of me."  
  
The bright white flames glowed brightly as she talked, and the hints of blue flickered when the Mother spoke.  
  
"These trees are no ordinary trees, magic runs through them as sure as blood in your veins. Yes, what your old friend Maude told you was true. The rowan tree is chosen by me."  
  
"Yes, but my Lady," said Alanna, "May I ask why you are here? I mean, why are you talking to me?"  
  
"With all do respect," continued Alanna, inwardly she could not believe she was being so bold as to say this to the Great Mother Goddess. "But you have already met with me and already told me my fears.  
  
The Mother chuckled, and a quiet wind whispered through the leafy bows of the tree. They seemed to laugh with their mistress, sharing her mirth.  
  
"Once again, my daughter," The Mother said, "You are afraid."  
  
And once again, Alanna stuck her chin defiantly and denied it.  
  
"I am not afraid." She said boldly.  
  
"Oh but you are, you are afraid of me, and what I might say. But it is also my forest that you fear. You fear what evil predator lurks among the shadows, waiting for a chance to corner is prey. Do not deny your fear, accept it."  
  
Alanna felt the hair on the back of her neck slowly rise. She felt her fear grow worse as the Goddess began to speak again.  
  
"My daughter, you have a long journey ahead of you, but you are not without allies. Learn to trust them or have your third fear destroy everything around you that you care about. Look to the Old One and you will find hope..."  
  
The beautiful, thundering voice began to fade away. She could see large oaks begin to replace the rowans all around her. The soft, smooth bark from under her changed to stone. Gary, Jonathon, Raoul and Alex all materialized before her eyes.  
  
"Look to the Old One and you will find hope," she heard one last time, and then Alanna let out one gigantic sneeze.  
"ACHOO!"  
  
And all of sudden, the still forms of her friends became alive again.  
  
"Mithros, Alan," said Alex, "That was quite a sneeze. Bless you." They all laughed.  
Gary looked up at the sky. It was beginning to lighten. "Well," he said, "Its along ride back to the Palace. We should probably head back, before we're missed by father and everyone else. Mithros, I hadn't realized we'd been talking for so long."  
  
And with that, they mounted their horses and rode back through the long narrow pathway towards the Palace. It certainly had been an eventful night.  
  
LIKE I SAID BEFORE, REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Please? Please? Please? Please? Thanks for reading! Cheers, -Norah 


	6. The Painted Lady and A Trip To Corus

Title: And One Go Alone Author: Norah-hunt  
  
Summary: After the last great rising, it is not Merriman that is destined to go alone. High magic has other plans for Will Stanton, last of the Old Ones. And it is the will of the gods which Will is transported into the world of Tortall, in which Alanna of Trebond masquerades as a boy, and Roger the Duke of Conte plots to overthrow the throne. Yes, the Dark has been banished from our world, but it small wings still have some control and power in the distant places of the universe, outside of our time. It's a Dark Is Rising/Song Of The Lioness Crossover, so please humour me and read it. :p Disclaimer: Will, Alanna etc all belong to Susan Cooper and Tamora Pierce, both extremely talented writers, from which I whish I could compare myself to.  
  
Replies to Reviewers:  
  
To everyone: 5 billion thanks for reviewing! Now its my personal replies to reviewers.  
  
Memet: Tear, you're my most faithful reviewer yet. And for that, I dedicate this chapter to you. And I hope you like this chapter, because it is LONG! I mean, in word its like 13 or more pages! Argh. And I had to figure out how to get it posted because the network for my computers was dead. Anyways, here's the chapter and I look forward to hearing from you again. : P  
  
:) : Hello, a new reviewer! I always like those! I would stop putting thwe disclaimer up but what if Susan Cooper or Tamora Pierce happened to be brousing the site, and *gasp* decided to read my fic! Anyways, it'll always remind you what the story's about. And as for the chapters being short, well this one's very long in my opinion. And hmm... how will the Gang react to our Will? Lol. My little secret. Three guesses as to where this fic is going and the nex chapter gets dedicated to you. As for your question about agaes, at the bottom of the page, I'm gonna start a thing where if there are any questions, I will answer them. So once your done reading, you'll have your question answered. Cheers, and I hope you like it. :D  
  
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Will couldn't believe she was hers. A beautiful creature, one of the greatest horses ever to be bred. She nickered softly as Will stroked her nose. Then, he itched and scratched is back. He would never get used to these weird rough tunics and leather breeches that he had to wear.  
  
"My god," he thought, "how do the people here stand it?" Now his breeches itched him. Will struggled not to scratch; he knew that it could probably just make the itching feeling worse. With a sigh, Will turned back to the horse that was about to be his. After leaving the great hall of time, Will had stepped out into a stable, with him in totally different clothes.  
  
He heard Merriman's voice echo in his head with some last instructions: "You are to buy the painted horse, there is money in your pouch, use it sparingly, although it will automatically refill." Will had inwardly raised an eyebrow at this. Then he turned and looked for the 'painted horse'. When he saw her, his newfound knowledge of horses, from the ring of course, instantly told him that she was a true gem. She was no ordinary mare, not a roan, nor chestnut. No, this mare was one of kind, a painted horse. Her glossy coat was marbled with white and roan coloured patches. "A Mustang," breathed Will, "But what is she doing here?" Her mane was of a pure snowy white, and her eyes a deep intelligent brown. Will knew that this was the mount he was supposed to get. He walked over to her. And a sudden voice made him jerk.  
  
"Hey, hey you there boy!" it said, "Get away from her, unless you 'tend t' buy her." Then he gave a laugh, "But by the look of ye, I'd say ye couldn't afford te buy this here brute."  
  
Will turned around to see an overweight man standing in a doorway at the other end of the room. He was ill groomed, with stubble and dirt covering his face. Will could smell a faint stench from where it was standing. It was the horses.  
  
He jerked his thumb over to a fat old pony, eating greedily the contents of its manger.  
  
"Excuse me, sir," said Will coldly, his voice not of a 15 year-old- boy, "But I think I'll be the judge of what I can and cannot afford. Its not good manners to go nudging into a noble's business." Will's eyes turned steely.  
  
The grubby, fat holster stared, this lad certainly had guts. No one dared to speak to him like that, not unless they wanted a sore beating. A vein bulged on the side of his as rage overtook his surprise. This brat was gonna pay, he promised himself.  
  
Will's next action surprised him even more, "You will sell me this horse," he said calmly, "and that poor pony too." "Sure," said the man hotly, "You can have 'em, when hell freezes over!" he charged at Will, unable to contain himself any longer.  
  
Will sighed; this had not gone how he had hoped. He made a mental note to work on his people skills, people here certainly were touchy.  
  
Just before the man was open him, fat jiggling from this quick movements, Will very carefully and calmly spoke a single word. A word of Power.  
  
"Arænti," halt.  
  
The man froze and stared at Will in horror. He could not move, but a single muscle, it was only through Will that he was able to breath and his heart to beat. The man's eyes were wide with fear.  
  
Will said very softly, but the holster got every single word, "Now, man, I'd like to make a purchase today. Will you be so kind as to let me buy that lovely mare, and that poor pony?"  
  
Will let up his spell enough so that the man good let out a frightened yelp and a vigorous nod.  
"Very good," said Will, went over to the beautiful mare's stall and opened it. Then, he went over to a shelf in the corner and selected the best tack the holster owned. Inwardly, the frozen man seethed. How dare that insolent, young cad take such a thing from him!  
  
Will pretended the spellbound, literally, man was not even in the room. After saddling up the mare, he walked over to the poor old pony's stall. He looked up at the tarnished brass engraving over the stall door. "Mona," it read. Will smiled, "Well, Mona," he said, "I think its time we got you out of this wretched place." The pony gave a high whinny in agreement. It was only after that the two beasts were saddled and ready to travel that Will turned back to the unfortunate man.  
  
With disgust, Will eyed him up and down.  
  
"How much for the horses?" he asked, and relented the spell a tiny bit so that the man could reply.  
  
"Why you little f.... oof!" the man didn't get a chance to finish, as Will had already thrown the spell back up.  
  
"Well," said Will, "I gave you a fair chance to tell me what you wanted for them, but now I guess I'll decide for you."  
  
Will felt around his waist until he found what he was looking for, a small leather pouch. Opening it, he drew out ten gold nobles. One by one he let them clank loudly on the floor, all the while counting: "One," clank, "Two," clank "Three" clank, until he reached ten. After that, Will turned his back on the man, and started walking to the door, which the man had first entered as if to go and leave the man suspended in total inmanueverability. Will could feel the fear radiating off the man, as Will's figure receded, it was quickly turning to panic.  
  
Just as he was about to step through the doorway, Will turned around. He raised his right arm slowly and spread his fingers wide.  
  
"Forget," he said quietly in Old Speech, "Forget. You have sold me these two mounts and it has been a friendly transaction. Your are pleased with the some of money you've been paid." Will took a sniff and added, "And the next thing you will do after I have left is take a bath." The man gazed at will in a stupor. Will said one last word in Old Speech, and disappeared through the doorway.  
  
"Vivana." Live.  
  
**************  
  
Once outside with his two new horses, Will mounted the mare and quickly rode down the nearest road he could find. This world reminded him very much of the Middle Ages, houses towered high above him, even from his perch on the tall mare. They were wooden, most of them, narrow town homes, with stories stacked high on top of another because the builders could not build out. The houses were whitewashed, with wooden crossbeams. Occasionally, from the brightly painted shutters, a bed of flowers would hang; yellow daffodils, purple pansies and some flowers Will had never seen before. Will walked on until the little street joined one of the main roads. Here, Will was not the sole traveler, the streets were alive with scurrying, bustling people; servants running errands for their masters, young girls looking at ribbons and fruits. Will saw small, bare-footed children running gleefully with bits of candy clutched in their grubby fists. All this activity, all this bustle was almost overwhelming for Will. Wide- eyed, he sought for a way out of the madness of the market square.  
  
There, he saw one. Beside small pub, shadowed alleyway beckoned to him. Will urged is new mare forward, while gently guiding Mona the pony behind him. With a sigh of relief, Will heard the roar of voices from the market die behind him as he traveled further into the dark secluded alley. Once at the end, Will dismounted. He decided it was time to take stock of what he had. Will had no doubt that the tack he had chosen was not by chance. He was right.  
  
When he looked through all the saddlebags, packed onto Mona's back, Will found food enough for a long journey. He also found a dagger, which promptly slipped into his belt. Of course, he didn't need it, no Old One did, but it would prevent trouble so that he wouldn't have to use his Powers. He thought a little ruefully of the holster.  
  
Hmm... he didn't have a sword though, and he would need a proper one when he got to the Palace. It would look suspicious if he didn't have a sword. Will resolved that when he reached Corus, he would buy one there, and when the time came that he found the Sword Of the Light, Mìriel, he would tell everyone who asked that he had seen this other sword, and just had to buy. No one would question him then.  
  
Then Will remembered something, he gazed lovingly at his roan and white mare, the painted horse. She still didn't have a name. What would he call her? Will finally decided that it should be something from his native tongue, a name in Old Speech. "What do you think, girl?" he asked her quietly, "What do you wanted to be named?" The painted mare gave a wicker. Will laughed, and said:  
  
"I know, I know, how about Ëmmelíre, Emma for short?"  
  
His mare nipped him on the nose and whinnied. She shook her head up and down and pranced on the rough cobbled stones.  
  
"You like that, girl?" Will asked with a smile, "You like that, Emma?"  
  
Mona looked curiously at them, wondering what on earth had gotten into her fellow horse. This made Will laugh. He pushed his floppy brown hair out of his eyes, as it was always shielding his vision and remounted Ëmmelíre, calling to Mona to come. To his surprise she did, and Will did not need to hold her reigns anymore, she knew he was her master and she obediently followed his commands, sensing the Old Speech which all beasts can understand if directly spoken to.  
  
And with that, Will and his two companions dived into the crowded marketplace again in search of the road to Corus.  
  
********  
  
Once on the road, Will found out that he had been in a place called Port Cayne. Asking a couple fellow travelers on the road, Will knew that he had only to follow the Great Road East for about two days and he would reach Corus. Will was relieved that it wasn't that far of a ride. Just because he now had the skill to ride a horse did not mean his muscles were used to long hard days on horseback. He knew he would be every sore when he reached the Palace.  
  
Once out of Port Cayne, Will enjoyed the Tortallian countryside, it reminded him a bit of England and Ireland. There were still small remnants of the Coastal Hills, even though he was travelling away from them. The land alongside the Road was rough, but had a sort of charming rugged beauty. Small shrubs flecked the hillsides, but what grew was mostly long, scrubby grass, with the occasional patch of wild flowers. Will smiled, enjoying the peace. He knew that once he got to the Palace, he would have very little time for rest until this whole ordeal was over.  
  
Will road until nightfall; the sun was beginning to disappear over the horizon when he stopped. Dismounting, he looked around him, it looked like a fairly good camping site, there were boulders near by him, which would shelter him from any wind that might arise, and the spot was also quite sheltered and would protect him from any attack. Hopefully, he added silently to himself. So Will turned back to Ëmmelíre and unsaddled her, cooing to her as he did so. Once she had been groomed and given some hay, with a thick blanket slung over her back, Will turned to Mona. He did the same thing. In Old Speech he told his horses not to leave the campsite. He knew they could understand him and he knew that they would not run away now.  
  
At last with his animals cared for, Will made himself comfortable for the night. He didn't know why, but Will felt that it would be best if he didn't have a fire that night. He knew he certainly could, if he wanted to, the ground was rocky and there would be no danger of it spreading, but he didn't. He felt as if that if he did light a fire, then someone would see it. Someone unwelcome. "Stop being silly," he told himself, but still Will didn't light a fire.  
  
Sitting comfortably on a pile of blankets he had found in one of the many saddlebags, Will searched for something to eat. With a shock, he realized that he had not eaten in a very long time. He was ravenous. Will searched through yet another of the saddlebags that were on Mona's back and found what he was looking for. Soon, Will had a large feast spread out before him: two thick hunks of bread, with ham piled on them. Will found a delicious looking apple and pulled that out too, after he found a flask filled with cool sweet water.  
  
He sighed contently, "Yes," he thought happily, "This is very nice, I could learn to like it."  
  
Will stayed up fairly late that night, swamped in a pile of blankets and staring up at the sky. The stars were beautiful, brighter than Will had ever seen them. Some constellations he didn't recognize, although some he did. Will fell asleep thinking about the stars and his mare, Ëmmelíre. He slept peacefully until the night reached the small hours of the morning.  
  
"Look what we got here," said a rough voice, Will felt himself being prodded with something sharp. Something was wrong. By instinct, as well as by his magic ring, Will remained still and feigned sleep. Another voice, younger and commanding spoke. "Stop that!" it said, "Or I'll have you're ear for my collection!"  
  
The miscreant gave Will one last sharp poke and then obeyed. Last night, Will had not forgotten his uneasiness; he had placed his knife within easy reach. Now, he slowly inched his hand toward it. There, he felt it. With a quick movement, Will grabbed the blade, gave a yell and sprung up to face his tormentors.  
  
They each jumped back with a surprised yelp; clearly they had not thought he was awake. Four other men looked up from rummaging through Will's saddlebags. They were all heavily armed.  
  
Will cursed inwardly and felt a stab of fear. He was grossly out numbered, but still he did not show it.  
  
Angrily, he shouted at a light haired man who had in his hands one of Will's delicious apples, "You put that down right now!" he spat.  
  
The light haired man did not look in the least worried at being threatened by an average sized teen grasping a small dagger. He took a large bite from it and juice ran down is chin.  
  
"Listen you," He said, his voice was uneducated, "A wee lad like you can't do a thing against us six, so why don't you just shut your god forsaken mouth!"  
  
Will found himself spluttering with outrage, "I demand to know who you people are! And why you are here, at my camp without permission."  
  
"Hold it, laddy," said one of them. He was one of the men that was standing close to Will and had the commanding voice. "No need to throw a fit, we're just travellers passing by, don't noble folk like you usually show a bit o' courtesy and the like to other people?"  
  
"Not to people who don't show courtesy to me," Will spat angrily. Inwardly, Will was a tiny bit worried, this didn't look too good. They did out number him, six to one. And he had only with him a dagger; these other men were all armed heavily.  
  
"Now, boy," said the commanding one, voicing Will's thoughts, "Look, your out numbered, ye might as well accept our bein' here and we won't bother ye."  
  
Will had no choice but to agree.  
  
The commanding one smiled crookedly, "I knew you'd see our way, lad. Now tell me, what's your name?" He looked a little curious.  
  
"Not until you tell me yours first." Will looked at the man. He was young, about twenty or twenty-one. He had twinkling hazel eyes and brown hair. His nose was a bit big for him, but Will noticed that when he smiled he didn't look too bad. "As you wish, young master," He said with a smile, "My name's George Cooper of the Lower City. Now pray, do tell us what your name is."  
  
All of the other men had gathered around, finished their search through Will's belongings since they had nothing better to do they thought they should all see the boy that they had caught. Will knew he was defeated, but he also knew, after he had recovered from his initial shock, that these men were not bad, and the Light had intended them to be his allies, if not friends.  
  
They cut a strange site, all six of them. Will spread the blankets that we had been sleeping in over the ground so that George and his men would not have to sit on the hard ground. The sun broke over the horizon, Will noticed, looking over the shoulders of the men facing him. This would be his second day riding, if these men chose to take him to Corus, then he would be there today.  
  
"You gonna tell us your name, lad?" Said another of George's men.  
  
"My names Will," he said, what he didn't tell them was that he was supposedly William of Britannia, "I'm on my way to Corus to find work as a stable boy at the Palace, my great-aunt is one of the head maids up there, and she got me this job. Although, I guess I won't be getting that job if you choose to take me somewhere else, because, after all, I am your captive, am I not?"  
  
This statement drew a laugh from the men, and they seemed to accept his story, although, George looked a little thoughtful. The men warmed to Will then, and the one who had first poked him announced himself as named Lightfingers, or 'Fingers for short. The others introduced themselves as Marek, Ruby, Wally and Watt. Willy and Watt were brothers, Will soon learned, and they liked nothing better than to just be with each.  
  
Marek pointed over at George and smiled affectionately, but there was respect in his voice when he spoke.  
  
"George there is your majesty, Will," he said, "The right ole' King Of the Rogue."  
  
"The Rogue?" Will repeated, slightly confused. For all his gift of Gramarye and Power as an Old One, Will had not the faintest idea what the 'Rogue' was. Obviously, he still had a lot to turn about Tortall and this strange land. The other men burst out laughing; they found Will's ignorance hilarious. "You hear that?!" Wally gasped out to Watt, "teehee, hehehe, the boy, hohahha, doesn't know.... hahaha... what the Rogue is!"  
  
Once their boisterous laughter had died down slightly, George spoke to Will. "Ye see, Will," he said, "The Rogue are a great group of people whose work, we'll just say, doesn't always abide by the law set up by the man who rules this place." He nodded around to the Tortallian countryside.  
  
"You mean your thieves, and you disobey the laws set out for the King of Tortall." Will's voice was flat and unimpressed. In his world thieves were looked upon with disdain and were locked in prison, Will's on this were reinforced because his father owned a jewellery shop. Once it was broken into, and the most beautiful diamond ring was stolen. That ring had been very valuable.  
  
"O c'mon Will," said Ruby, "Don't look so disapproving' like, at least we're honest about bein' thieves." His voice was rough and he spoke with a thick accent that Will couldn't place.  
  
Will raised his eyebrows at 'honest thieves', but said nothing.  
  
"Anyways," George broke in, breaking what was beginning to become a somewhat tense atmosphere, "Will, you said ye wanted to go to Corus, yer in luck, that's where we're heading to, right boys?"  
  
George's men nodded in agreement.  
  
"Thank you very much," said Will, "I've never been to the city, so I'd love it if you could guide through it a bit."  
  
"It's settled then," said George, "Now, as a favour to us bein' your guide an all, you got anything to eat? It just about breakfast time and I'm absolutely starving!"  
  
The other men murmured their agreement with their leader, and Wally and Watt rolled around in the dirt, pretending to be dying of hunger. Will laughed at their antics and got up to look for the saddlebag, which he found last night for his dinner.  
  
There, he found it, it had took him long enough, Ruby's rummaging through his stuff had messed up where his bags were put, and it took Will a long time to find where exactly that bag had been tossed to. By now, Wally and Watt were lying still, now that they had 'died' from hunger. Despite their odd meeting, Will was really beginning to like these six men. Besides, he reasoned, it would be good to have some allies, if not friends in the city. They dined on bread and cheese with an apple apiece. When they finished their meal, the thieves got up and all whistled an eerie, high-pitched sound. Both Ëmmelíre's and Mona's ear twitched and they looked at George and his men. If it hadn't been for Will's command for them to stand still they would have walked over to them.  
  
Feeling a little confused, Will heard distant hooves beat in the distance and slowly come closer. Six horses, all magnificent beasts in there own right, appeared before George and his men. George mounted the lead horse, a beautiful chestnut mare, saying to Will as he did so, "It's a long ride to Corus from here, you'd best get yonder mare saddled up if you want to be there by dusk."  
  
Will nodded in agreement and turned towards Emma and to look for her saddle. It took him about fifteen minutes to get Ëmmelíre ready to go, he had to give her a bit of time to drink some water, while he packed away her blanket. He didn't need to worry about feeding her; he knew she and Mona had grazed on what little grass there was all night. Once he was finished with Ëmmelíre, he turned to Mona in order to get her ready. To his surprise, we found her already packed and ready to go. He saw Marek grinning at him.  
  
"Thanks, Marek," Will said, with genuine appreciation. "Its nothing," replied the older man, with a smile.  
  
And with that they all mounted and set off down the Great East Road towards Corus and the Palace.  
  
It took them all day, like George said it would, to get to Corus, but when they arrived, Will felt his breath be taken away.  
  
The city was huge! Will stood with George, Marek, Ruby, Watt, Wally and Lightfingers on a small hillcrest that overlooked the Corus, Tortall's capital. On the outskirts, Will could see a few small cottages. They looked pleasant and comfortable, with small near vegetable gardens and grey smoke wisping from small chimneys.  
  
Farhter in, there was the Lower City, the part iof Corus that George had mentioned when he introduced himself early that morning. It was a maze of small streets and town homes similar to the houses that he had seen in Port Cayne, when he had left the stable the day before. "Jeez," Will thought, "can it only have beentwo days ado that I was still back in Wales?" It seemed like an eternity.  
  
Once inside the Lower City, Will found out that he was not incorrect when he thought the streets looked like a maze. He was completely lost, although Will could navigate through a bust downtown London, Will could only guess where they were going and hope that George wasn't as confused as to their whereabouts as he was.  
  
George led Will and the others through many small twisting streets and alleys, sometimes trveling down one, then abruptly turning right or left. Will had to concentrate just to keep up. He knew that it would be hope;ess if he got separated from Goerge. Finally, they reached a large, empty square shaped clearing that Will guessed to be the marketplace. Except, it was evening now and all of the shopkeepers and peddlers had gone home, only to return early the next day.  
  
Will looked up at the large, blood-streaked face of the dying sun. Sadows lengthed all around him, as it sunk lower to horizon.  
  
"I think," said George, "That you might be wanting to to stay with me for the night, young Will. So you can get some rest before you go up to the Palace. You wouldn't want your great-aunt seeing you all dusty and tired, now would yah?"  
  
"Wha-what?" asked Will, he had forgotten for a moment about his story he had told George and the men. When George raised an eyebrow, he quickly said, "O, right. Thanks, George, that's really kind of you."  
  
"Right, that's settled then." George led them out of the marketplace and down a small street. They had almost reached the end of it, when George stopped at a small brightly lit tavern called the Dancing Dove. George didn't open the front door, but instead led them around to the back, where Will saw there was a stable.  
  
Hostlers, much kinder to both beasts and people than the one Will first encountered, came to relieve them of their mounts. Will smiled his thanks, just like him, Ëmmelíre and Mona were exhausted. They deserved a nice long groom and then water and hay for the night.  
  
Once inside the Dancing Dove, Will was hit with a blast of noise. Marek, Lightfingers, Ruby and Wally and Watt all disappeared once inside to find their respective ladies and get something to eat.  
  
Will was slighjtly awed that there could be so much activity in just one room. Men sat at various tables and ate, drank, gambled talked, while others took up what free space their was in the crowded room and danced to a catchy tune played on the fiddle.  
  
George seemed to pay no attention to the horrible din, but instead looking searchingly through the crowd until he found who he was looking for.  
  
"Hey, hey, Slolem," he called, Will saw an old man jerk out of a nap that he had been enjoying in a chair behind the bar. Will was amazed that the old man could even think in here, let alone sleep. In the end Will just decided that the man named Slolem was used to it.  
  
"Hey, Slolem," George said again, "I need a room for this lad here," He nodded his head toward Will, "He'll be bunkin' here tonight."  
  
The old man gave the a goodnatured,"As ye say, yer Majesty," replied Slolem, "Will you be needin' any 'reshments? I tell yeh, the ale's pretty good t'night, master George."  
  
"Thanks," said George gratefully, just like Will he was tired, "But can you bring the lad lemonade? We'll be up in my rooms, Slolem."  
  
And with that, George led Will out of the noisy room, full of thieves and their women, having fun on this boisterous early summer evening. When they left the room, Will has surpised to find it oddly quiet. It was as if the door and wall that they'd gone through totally blocked all sound from the main part of the pub. George turned a corner and Will saw tall, narrow staircase leading up to another story.  
  
At the top of the stairs, Will found that he was in a hall with many doors lining its walls. Each had a number on it, Will guessed that these were the rooms that the small pub kept. George walked down the hall until he reached one particularly ordinary looking door. Its was there, that George opened the door, not bothering to use a key, but prducing a curious looking piece of metal, and let them in. Although, before George would let Will inside, he searched both of the small rooms that he had thoroughly.  
  
Only when he was done, did he let Wil enter. When Will did walk in, he found that he was in a small, neatly kept room with a comfortable looking bed in one corner and a failry large wooden table in another. George lit some candles to give them more light, and then turned to light some gass wall scounces. After he was finished, he sat down in a chair by the table and motioned for Will to join him. Will did so willingly. His legs were killing him and it was a relief to just sit down and do nothing.  
  
There was a small knock on the door. "Come in," George called. The shuffling old, but friendly, bartender Slolem walked in bearing on a tray to tankards and jugs.  
  
"Here ye are, Your Majesty, young master," he said. Then, with a last smile he left, saying behind, "I s'pect you don't want to be disturbed, Highness?"  
  
"Right you are, Slolem," replied George with a smile; good old Slolem.  
  
Once the old man left, George poured himself a tankard full of ale from one jug and Will a glass full of lemonade from the other jug. Will took a timid sip at his drink, then he took a great gulp, seeing how it tasted so good. He hadn't realized how thirsty he was. Will got George's eye, who was looking at him with a smile. Slightly sheepish Will put his tankard down and forced himself to take only small sips.  
  
"So," said George, "What really brings ye here to Corus?"  
  
Will felt his heart leap. Already someone had guessed! He tried to keep his voice calm, "What do you mean?" he asked innocently, "I told you and the others this morning, when we were having breakfast."  
  
"Yah," George snorted, "That's what you told us, but I know thats not the truth. Look, lad," he said, "I'm not stupid, for one thing your no commoner. You don't talk like one, nor would one carry a beast like that mare ye'got. Now, I won't make yeh say anything you don't want to, be listen here, lad, if you expect my trust I expect yours. And that includes tellin' me why you want so badly to get into the Palace."  
  
Will sighed and looked down into his mug.  
  
"I-I-I'm sorry I lied to you, George," Will stammered, "Its just I was scared still and I didn't want you to know that I was a noble. Really, I'm going up to the Palace to become a squire there." There, that was part of truth, Will reasoned, it wasn't a lie, just he didn't tell George why he was going to become a squire. Will remembered the Lady's words about keeping his quest a secret only too well.  
  
"So your the lad all of them bein' talking about up at the Palace!" George exclaimed, "Well, you seem alright, I'm sure they'll all like you."  
  
Will frown curiouly. "Them?" he repeated, "Those them?"  
  
"Never mind that," George said, changing the subject, Will could meet Alanna and her friends in due time, "Tell me about that fine mare of yours. I've never seen anything like her."  
  
Will smiled, he loved Ëmmelíre too. She was a real gem, quite rare.  
  
"Her name's Ëmmelíre. I found her at a stable in Port Cayne. As soon as a saw her I knew that she must be mine. I have Mona because the poor girl was being terrized by the man who owned the place. We struck a deal and Ëmmelíre was mine."  
  
George knew there was alot more to Will's story than just "making a deal with the stable owner", but he didn't press him. Will had secrets, but George was fairly sure that the lad would tell him in good time. Instead he said:  
  
"Ëmmelíre? Thats an odd name, how in Mithros name did you come up with it?"  
  
Will's answer was careful, he certainly couldn't tell him that it was of Old Speech, but he could tell him something close to the truth.  
  
"My old knight master was always fond of languages as well as the fighting arts, so he made me learn many a dead language. This one is particularily old, Ëmmelíre comes from it. Her name means Painted Lady. I thought it suited her."  
  
George whistled, "It certainly does, you've got good taste in horses and good taste in names, Will." Then he yawned and said, "I don't about you, Will, but I'm tired. I think its about time we both went to bed."  
  
Will nodded in a agreement and got up from his chair.  
  
"Thanks, George," He said, "Thanks for everything. If you want, tomorrow you can tell me how much I owe you for the room and I'll pay you back."  
  
George raised an eyebrow, "Do you really think I'm gonna ket you pay for this?" he asked, "Listen, tonight your my guest and your not paying for one penny of this. Goodnight, Will. You'll find your room. It'll be just across the hall. Your stuff will already be there for you. Have a good night's rest. Your gonna need it for tomorrow."  
  
Will nodded tiredly and yawned, "Goodnight, George, " he said, "See yah tomorrow." And with that he disappeared out into the hall way and into his own room.  
  
That night, as George lay in bed, he could feel his limbs droop with weariness, but he could not, for all that he tried, get to sleep. Something was nagging at him. His Gift was trying to tell him something... It was about the boy, about Will. It wouldn't tell exactly, but George knew that this lad was important. After that, George stayed awake a while yet, pondering over what his Gist had told him and the lad he found on the Great Road East. It wasn't for a while that George finally rolled over and got to sleep.  
  
Will on the other hand, was instantly asleep as soon as he hopped between the two bedsheets, totally exhuasted ans unawares of what George had just realized.  
  
********  
  
Questions to be answered.  
  
Submitted by :) :  
  
And if they're taking on squires, this means that Alanna is a squire, and Jon a knight, and Gary and Raoul knights - I think I'm confusing my timeline. How old is Will, anyway?  
  
Answer: Well my friend, Will is about 15 and so is Alanna, so Gary, Raoul and Jon are all young knights. I hope that sums up your timeline confusions. If not, let me know and I'll give you a more detailed response.  
  
********  
  
Finally typed! Phew it took for ever. Anyways, I hope you liked it!  
  
And like always, REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!  
  
Cheers, -Norah 


	7. To The Palace Gates

**Title: And One Go Alone Author: Norah-hunt**  
  
**Summary:** After the last great rising, it is not Merriman that is destined to go alone. High magic has other plans for Will Stanton, last of the Old Ones. And it is the will of the gods which Will is transported into the world of Tortall, in which Alanna of Trebond masquerades as a boy, and Roger the Duke of Conte plots to overthrow the throne. Yes, the Dark has been banished from our world, but it small wings still have some control and power in the distant places of the universe, outside of our time. It's a Dark Is Rising/Song Of The Lioness Crossover, so please humour me and read it. :p Disclaimer: Will, Alanna etc all belong to Susan Cooper and Tamora Pierce, both extremely talented writers, from which I whish I could compare myself to.  
  
**Miscellaneous Notes From The Author**  
  
Hey guys! Cheers and cookies for EVERYONE you reviewed! I am SORRY it took me so long to get this thing up. I've had it written for ages. Absolutely ages. It just that for a while, I got lazy,: P, and also then I got a new comp. And the file was trapped aboard that comp. So I couldn't work on it. So yesterday, with a fit of inspiration, (possibly because it was Victoria's Day, who knows?) I finished off the chapter only to be faced with the dilemma of how to get it off the flippin' machine. My comp doesn't have Internet; well the old one doesn't, so that ruled out the possibility of emailing it to myself. Then its no longer networked so I couldn't access it from another comp. I couldn't print it because my printer died, (not that I wanted to print out 18 pages anyway) and it wouldn't even recognize that there was a floppy in the drive! Blah. So anyways, I consulted my long trusted friends and they suggested burning it onto a CD. So with a half-hearted try I decided to take their advice, and guess what? IT WORKED! Lord be praised. Thanks so much guys!!!!  
  
Anyways, enough of this silly babble, although you still need to bear with me through the replies to reviews. Although, then.... MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, the real torture begins. (That means this fic is gonna be painful to read. Please humour me though, and read it anyway. Looks hopeful  
  
**Replies to Reviewers:** to all, as always. THANKS!!! : D:D:D:D (sorry if I forget anyone, but you still have my thanks!)  
  
**Kitlite:**  
  
Hey! I love these two universes too! I was positively heartbroken when SOTT ended. That's why we've got this! Cheers, I hope you like it!  
  
**Memet:**  
  
As you wish, an update. :D You deserve that nomination!

**:):**  
  
Hey! I can sympathize with you. I too have THREE brothers. Yah sorry about my little grammatical errors, it just that, at 10 pm, you don't really wanna proofread over 10 pgs of writing more than you have too. :P. that's just a bit of laziness peaking through. As for the scared thing, it says in the books that most of the time he is an ordinary boy. And Old One or no, I know I'd be scared if I were him! As for where this is going, I let you guess, but that doesn't mean your knowing where this is going. : p O! but I will explain abut Will's Gift, and I'll repeat this at the bottom for other people to read. No, Will doesn't have the gift. I mean of course he has magic, but he's not Gifted, so that would explain why George can't sense him. Plus as an Old One, what's the fun of having magic if you can't hide it from other people? Also, if Will had the Gift, people, important people, people who might be connected with the Dark, would take a greater interest in this strange Gifted boy. Although I will say this, Will will [lol] have to use his Gift with some interesting reactions from the gang! (Imagine the possibilities!) anyways, I won't keep you any longer from reading this chapter. If you have any more questions, please ask em and I'll reply to you next update. Cheers. O and btw, this chapter's for you!  
  
**Eldrice:** sigh another faithful reviewer! I like you people! :D cookies to you! Lol. I agree with you, I was heartbroken too when poor Alanna and Jon broke off their romance. I think this has resulted in my favourites of the series being Alanna The First Adventure and In The Hand Of The Goddess. I'm glad that you like this cross-over! I can't wait to see where its going to! I hope you like the chapter!  
  
**Huntress Diana:**  
  
Very touched to hear that you like it! Especially, coming from such a distinguished author as yourself! :D you think its original? Wow! Thanks! O and yah thanks for the Solom, Slolem thingy. In truth I had no clue how to spell it. At first I didn't have a copy of any of the books, but when I got it from the library, I found it VERY hard to find Solom's name in "In the Hand Of The Goddess." I will correct for the future, and I'm sorry if you see any little thingies like that again! As to speech starting on a new line, that would be another little whoops on my part. I'll try an fix em, but woe be me if I miss some. :P anyways. Cheers I hope you like it!  
  
**REVIEWER - IMPORTANT MESSAGE: KEEP REVIEWING! EVERY NEW CHAPTER A REVIEWER WILL HAVE THE CHAPTER DEDICATED TO THEM. SO PLEASE, REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!**  
  
**And today's chapter goes to [think Oscars :P]..........**  
  
: ) the Happy Face Dude/Dudette  
  
Congrats! ENJOY AND REVIEW!!!!!!!!!  
  
Will left the Dancing Dove for the Palace around mid-afternoon. He had spent the morning meeting George's friends and a couple of the tricks of their trade. He learned how to pick a basic lock, and pickpocket the most careless of travels. Marek, Light Fingers and Ruby were overjoyed at Will's success. They claimed that if Will kept learning at the rate he did, he would become a passable thief and pickpocket. After his lessons, George bought Will a lemonade.  
  
They sat at a small table near the back of the small tavern. It was secluded and slightly hidden behind a large cupboard. It was a place where they wouldn't be overheard. Will sipped his lemonade gratefully; it tasted as brilliant as it had the night before, sweet, tangy and most definitely refreshing. Will and George drank in silence for a while, with George occasional looking over the rim of his class to peer at Will thoughtfully. If Will had not had his morning lessons, and his wits sharpened, he wouldn't have noticed these quick glances, but since he had, he did. Will wondered what George could be thinking but of course, had absolutely no idea.  
  
Will let his mind wander. To his surprise, his thoughts brought him to the stable, where Mona and Emma were. He felt himself grow fond of his mare and the pony. They would make good companions during his quest; they could not scorn or disbelieve the Light and the Dark, nor could they tell anyone what secrets he told them. Yes, Will thought, animals are lovely friends. Next, they floated idly to the Palace and what his training would be like. It was then that and only then that Will realized he didn't have the proper weapon a noble boy of his age should have. A sword. "I'll have to get George to take me to get one," thought Will, and then added a little more soberly, "If he'll take me." Quickly, Will's sharp wits set to work, making up a believable story so George wouldn't get too suspicious as to why a young 'squire' like himself would be without a blade.  
  
From across the table George cleared his throat, and Will climbed his way out of the complicated jumble that were his thoughts. Will looked up and saw George looking fixedly on him.  
  
"So, Will," he said, "Have you decided when your gonna leave us here and go to the Palace?  
  
"Yes, actually, I think was think maybe in the afternoon sometime" Will replied, "And I would love it if you came with me as well. Or at least just to the Palace gates. I know that I would get lost in these streets immediately."  
  
George smiled, saying sure, he was about to turn back to his drink, a lot of things on his mind unsaid mind you, when Will's voice made him look up again.  
  
"Umm, George?" Will asked tentatively, "I kind of don't have a sword, and I'm sure all of the squires up at the Palace have one. I mean, maybe, if you wouldn't mind, could we maybe go looking for one before you take me to the Palace? I just don't want to get ripped off or anything. So if you're not busy...." Will's rush of words trailed off lamely.  
  
George looked at Will quizzically. "Why would a noble lad like you need a sword? Don't you already got one or something? And why would you need someone like me to tell ye if you're being ripped off?"  
Will had his lie prepared. "I gave my sword to my master, as a gift of farewell. And where I grew up, I made my sword with the help of the blacksmith. So I really don't know what I'm looking for. I was hoping you could help me."  
  
George didn't seem totally convinced by this answer, but he still said nothing about it. For that Will was grateful. Instead, he said, "Alright, lad, I'll take ye to buy a blade. But un'er one condition."  
  
Will looked at George hopefully, "Yes?"  
  
"You keep what you know o' the Rogue t'yourself at the Palace, understand?"  
  
"Of course," said Will, "You're my friend and I'll respect what you ask of me, besides," He added wryly, "If I turned you in, I'd figure that your neck wouldn't be the only one stretched. People'd start asking questions, like how I got to know you."  
Will changed the subject. "So when would you wanna go, George?" he asked, "Anytime's fine with me."  
  
George strained the last of his lemonade and stood up. "Now's as good a time as any, and if you want to get to the Palace by late afternoon, we'd best get going now."  
  
Will stood up and they weaved their way through the bar. It wasn't as crowded as it had been the night before, but was definitely busy. The Dancing Dove was always busy; at any hour a thief could be found enjoying a tankard, or throwing some dice. Quickly they passed through the room, with George nodding to old Solom as they went. And then, they were outside. The street they were on was dimly lit, only a few rays of sunlight fought their way through the large overhangs and gutters of the tall buildings that surrounded them. They walked along in silence, George looking a head and Will checking his belt to find his money pouch. They reached the end of the alleyway.  
  
The city was stunning the night before, but now Will heard himself gasp in surprise and his mouth fell slightly open. George grinned and raised a hand and tapped Will's chin, making his mouth close. "Welcome to Corus, lad," he said, "I think we've arrived just in time for market."  
  
Will could only nod numbly. He was used to a crowded city, but this was amazing. Coloured banners and cloths fluttered in the slight breeze that blew from the west. People milled about everywhere he looked; some on foot and others on horseback. People bartered, stole, sold and bought, all going about their daily business. Will moved a step closer to George, he did not under any circumstances want to get loss in the masses of people.  
  
George led them through the crowd and down one of the main streets. It was not one of the shady dark alleyways that George usually led them down, but a bright one, full of the bustled of people scurrying by. Stalls and shops lined the streets, with salesmen blaring loudly out at anyone bothering to listen about their goods. Some people looked just as awed as Will did, while others went about as if they were just out on a mid-morning stroll. George looked very much like one of the latter.  
  
After about a ten-minute walk, George stopped out side a plain looking shop. It was almost identical to all of the other stores that flanked either side of the road, but some how George knew this was the one he wanted. As Will drew up to the shop door, he noticed that a strange symbol was engraved into the doors surface. It was a circle, quartered by a cross, and then in a second, it was gone, lost from view as George tugged open the heavy wooden door, saying as he did so:  
  
"This is the best place in Corus to get a blade, Will," he said, "The bloke who owns the place is a bit odd but you get used to him."  
  
"Mmmm." Will said, still a little confused by the symbol on the door. George looked at Will oddly.  
  
They were inside the shop now; the air was dark and cool. Lanterns lit the interior, as little light came through the large, dusty display case at the front of the shop. All along the walls, on every inch of available space, a beautifully forged blade lay, mounted upon two pegs. For the second time in half an hour Will was awed by this new world. Will saw daggers, swords, dirks and many more weapons he couldn't identify, but all gleamed a polished silver, even in the dim light. Hilts, both of coiled rope and hammered steel, were encrusted with jewels and threaded with gold. Each weapon was a masterpiece, all beautiful and deadly. Will gazed admiringly at them, wandering around the shop, with eyes glued to the walls.  
  
A voice from behind him made Will jump.  
  
"Ah, George," It said, "I see you have come to visit me again. It is has been along time since you last came here, my friend. I trust you are in good health."  
  
It was rich and deep male voice, but not booming. Will froze; he did not even have to look to know whom he would see. Merriman stood facing Will and George, wearing an exquisite, deep blue robe, with large sleeves that blossomed forth from his arms like majestic bells of a cathedral, swinging softly as he raised an ark in greeting. Merriman's hair was still as shockingly white as ever, and his eyes deep set in a dark, wizened face. George opened his mouth to reply to Merriman, it was obvious to Will that they were friends.  
  
"Very good, Merry," he said casually, "And you?"  
  
Merriman looked over at Will, who was standing slightly behind George. Will heard Merriman's voice echo in his head.  
  
"Greetings, Old One," said Merriman silently, "I see you have found the Rogue. You will need them as allies in your quest, do not betray their trust..." His voice faded from Will's mind.  
  
"I am well," replied Merriman, speaking to George, "I see you have brought me someone today. Are they in need of a dagger? Or a dirk perhaps?"  
  
"Actually, Merry," said George, "We're here to buy a sword. This here is Will. He just arrived in Corus from Port Cayne, wants to be properly equipped and the like. I was hopin' you could maybe help us there, Merry."  
  
"Hello, Will," said Merriman gravely, Then he turned back to George, "I think me may have something here suitable for this boy."  
  
"Will!" Merriman hissed into Will's mind, using Old Speech, "To your right, pick up the sword with rope handle and crystal pommel stone. It will protect you and serve for you until you can retrieve the blade of the Light."  
  
"Yes, Merriman," Will replied silently, and turned as he was directed, looking as if he were absently browsing through the beautiful array of weapons. He spotted the one he was supposed to buy. It was stunning; the blade was steel, but it shone like silver. The crosspiece of the hilt was shone just as brightly, with tiny runes, which Will would recognize as Old Speech later, engraved into them. Will picked it up, it fit his hand perfectly, and the coiled rope that snaked around the handle of the hilt was smooth beneath his fingers. The pommel stone was a light blue crystal, clear and icy. Will could feel the spells woven into the blade; spells to prevent it from breaking, to prevent it from rusting and to prevent it from being stolen.  
  
"Excuse me, sir," Will said to Merriman aloud, "This sword here, may I ask of you the price of it?"  
  
"Ahh," said Merriman, approvingly, "You have a good taste in blades. That sword is very old and very valuable. It will cost you twenty nobles."  
  
So far, George had been silent, but now he spoke up. "Let me see that blade, Will." He said, and Will handed him the blade. "Hmm..." he said, accepting the offered sword, "Your right about that, Merry, this blade is very old. Maybe we should look at some other swords though, Will, you might find something more suitable for your purposes."  
  
"No," said Will firmly, George looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. Will's voice was crisp and commanding, Will blushed, and added lamely: "I really like this one, and I think we'd really best be getting on, its almost noon now and I really would like to be at the Palace by the afternoon." George didn't say anything, but even though he'd only known Will for about two days, he knew this boy wasn't normal. "Alright, Will," He said, "Lets buy this blade and be off then."  
  
They turned back to Merriman who was watching them quietly. He walked over to a counter near the back of the shop; there he drew out a box that clinked when Merriman said down upon the smooth wooden surface of the counter. The chest was dark, with silver pieces of metal decorating the corners, in twisting Celtic-like designs. It was as much of a work of art as any of the skilfully crafted blades in the shop. Drawing a small key from a pocket hidden among the folds of his robe, Merriman opened the small chest. Its contents were revealed to be only a mound a gold and silver coins.  
  
Merriman gave Will a graceful, deep nod, saying as he did so, "That blade, as I have said before, will cost twenty nobles. For that price I will also give you a scabbard and a belt. Once you have paid I will be more than happy to give these two things."  
  
"Thank you, sir," said Will, quickly, he rummaged around his belt, looking for his purse. When he found it, he counted out twenty of the gold coins, which he knew to be nobles. Placing them on Merriman's outstretched hand, Will quickly spoke to Merriman for the first time as another Old One since the Great Hall. "It is good to see you, Merriman," He thought happily, and then he added wryly, "I suppose, I was to meet our friend George Cooper? Although I think you could've made out meeting a little less... unexpected."  
  
Will heard Merriman chuckle inside his head as he said this, "Of course not, Old One," Merriman said with a laugh, then out loud he said, "The scabbard and belt are this way, I keep them in the back room." Merriman gestured behind him and Will saw a small passageway, which led to another small room, similar to the one he was in. "I will be only a moment," said Merriman, "Do feel free to look around until I return."  
  
When he had left, George turned to Will, his face was earnest and Will shifted slightly uncomfortably under his keen gaze. "Here's you sword back, Will" he said, "Use it well, like I said it is very old and I do believe there is magic in it." Then he changed the topic, "Merry is a bit of an odd fellow, but he's very sweet once you get to know him. He makes most of these blades, although some of them are imported from the great forges of Maren."  
  
"Hmm" was Will's reply, wondering what 'Maren' was. Will made a mental note that if he were to truly fit in among these people; he would have to learn their cultures and at least the surrounding geography. Will was saved from answering by the return of Merriman from the backroom. With him, he carried a navy blue scabbard, decorated with the same silver designs that were engraved onto his sword. The belt, Will saw was simple and ordinary. It was of black leather, small strips braided together to make an interesting, complicated weave.  
  
Merriman offered them to Will. When Will took them, he found that there was a small piece if metal fitted to the belt, other than the buckle. A quick examination told him that the scabbard probably fit in it. Once Will had buckled the belt around his waist, he tested his theory and found that he was right. With George's help, Will managed to secure the scabbard to his belt. Then he slid his beautiful sword into its sheathe. To Will's surprise, the slight pressure resting on his leg was not as heavy as he thought it would be, although he would still need to get used to it.  
  
Will turned to George, and George turned to Merriman. "Thanks, Merry," said George, "I'm afraid we better be getting going now, though. I hope to be seeing you soon."  
  
Merriman looked grave, saying "I'm sure you will, but I do not think that they will be under pleasant circumstances. Goodbye, George Cooper."  
  
George had known Merry for too long to be disconcerted by this strange answer. George looked pointedly at Will, and nodded slightly to Merriman. Will, who had already been silently giving Merriman his farewells, said them out loud again, although much more formal and respectful.  
  
"I must thank you for this wonderful blade here, sir" he said, "It has been a pleasure to meet you. Goodbye, sir." And with that, George and Will turned to go, leaving the quiet serenity of Merriman's armoury to the wild streets of Corus outside. It was odd really, thought Will; this shop was so close, yet it seemed worlds away from any sort chaos that prevailed in the rest of small boutiques.  
  
George pushed the small wooden door open and they were outside again. He led them back the way they came, except it was more difficult now, they were moving against the flow of traffic. They seemed to be the only two people that wanted to go north, instead of south. Finally, they fought their way back to the Dancing Dove.  
  
Once they were inside, Will was just happy to have a place to sit down. The Dove was busier than when they had left, the lunchtime crowd had begun to trickle in, but still, thought Will, anything was better than the buzzing masses of people outside in the market.  
  
George took a seat beside Will, pulling up a chair from another table. "Wow," Will said, "Corus is quite the city." George nodded in agreement, "That it is, lad. Here, lets get some lunch and then you can pack yer stuff and we'll head up to th' Palace." They youth's hungry looking face was all George needed for an answer. He called to Old Solom and ordered them a sizeable meal. The food was delicious.  
  
After they had finished, Will climbed up the narrow staircase that George had led him up the night before. It was quiet and peaceful, like it had been the night before as well. Once at the top of the stair case, Will opened the door to his room, its was numbered fourteen Will noticed absentminded and then went inside to gather up his things. Most of his bags were ready to go, as he hadn't really unpacked the night before. It took Will about ten minutes to fold and pack all his clothes, and find his toiletries. Once he was finished, Will went back downstairs in search of George.  
  
He found him outside, near the stables. George leaned against the wall, absently examining a piece of grass. When he heard Will approach he looked up and gave him a smile. After all, Will did cut a bit of an odd sight. All of Will's bags were draped awkwardly over his shoulders and his hands were full. He looked like a walking, fat potato. With a laugh, George walked over to Will to relieve him of some of his bags. Once everything was lying in a heap near the stable, Will and George went to saddle up the horses.  
  
Will found Emma and Mona happily munching away at some hay when he walked in. Their ears pricked up when the heard and smelled their master's approach. Will first walked over to Ëmmelíre, he fished an apple leftover from lunch from his pocket and fed it to her. Emma neighed softly as she took the offered fruit. Will heard a voice behind him, it was thick, and with an accent that Will guessed belonged to those of the city.  
  
"She's been groomed already, sir," it said. Will turned around to see a stable boy few who was years younger than himself, the lad was tall and will blond hair and brown eyes, "Beggin' yer pardon, sir, but I took that job 'pon meself. She's a right old beauty, yon mare. All ye' gotta do is saddle 'er up, sir. Same wit' yonder pony."  
  
Will smiled and said gratefully, "Thank you. What's your name?"  
  
"Andrew," he said respectfully, he was fully aware that he stood in front of a noble, Will saw a flicker of indecision on his face before the boy said tentatively, "I've a brother, up a' the Palace, ye know," he began, "His name's Stefan, and excuse me, sir, but I nowadays, they don't let commoner folk like us up in yonder Palace, so I don't get to see my brother anymore. And I was wondering, if maybe, sir, you could, you know, say hi to 'im." With no immediate scorn from Will, the boy grew more confident in his speech. "I've got a summin' I wanna tell 'im but I ain't got a chance to tell him to come an' see me..." he trailed off and looked hopefully at Will.  
  
"Of course," Will said and Andrew's face split into a large happy, grin. Will dug into his coin purse and tossed the boy a coin. "Here," he said, "Help me saddle up Mona, the faster I'm up at the Palace, the faster I can give your brother the message."  
  
So with the boy's help, Will had Mona and Ëmmelíre ready to go in no time. Will led Emma outside into the backyard where he found George waiting with his chestnut mare. Quickly, they mounted up and set up towards the Palace.  
  
George led Will and Mona down a wide road called the Market Way. After awhile, Will noticed on a sign that it was now called Palace way. When Will mentioned this to George, he explained that this was the part of Corus where the temples were, and were nobles lived, farther north was the Palace, hence the name. Soon, as George had said, they were in the Temple District. Will was amazed once again for the third time that day, and he suspected that it would not be the last. He saw countless temples, each devoted to a God or Goddess. It was eerie in a way, to be near something so holy and where people devoted their lives to someone unknown.  
  
Once they had passed through the Temple District and the noble houses, they were at the Palace. It was here that George said goodbye to Will. Will promised to come down when ever he could and was made to vow again by George that he would never mention the Rogue to anyone that wasn't supposed to here about them. And with that, George steered his mare back down the road towards the Market and the Dancing Dove. Will turned back towards the Palace, he dismounted and walked the short distance that separated them. It was the real start to his adventure.  
  
The main gates of the Palace were huge. Will stood in front of them, admiring at the intricate designs carved delicately into the woodwork and etched into the stonewalls surrounding them. They rose far above Will, reaching up almost seventy-five feet. And the battlements were alive with activity; tiny shapes scurried to and from the massive stone structures. Below them, on the ground with Will, guards also lined the wall, flanking the gates in two long lines, each soldier standing stiffly to attention, spear or sword in hand. Some of the guards were painfully young, not much older than Will, while some had seen one too many seasons. Still, thought Will, in the middle of a city, you can't expect a major attack. Well, they can, but one they can defend themselves from. Will thought a little uneasily of the Dark, then pushed those thoughts from his mind. It would do him no good to arrive at the Palace in such a state.  
  
Will noticed the guardsmen's' uniforms, they were maroon tunics, with tan leaver armour under them. Each guard wore a steel helmet, with chain mail hanging down from the neck to product it from any arrow or downward thrust of a sword. Despite their ages, all of the guardsmen looked fit and well fed. Will noted this with approval.  
  
One particularly gruff looking guard spotted Will from his post on the rampart and called down to him.  
  
"Halt!" he ordered, "No person enters the Palace without stating their name and purpose."  
  
Ever since the sweating sickness four years ago, the king had ordered the Palace guards to question and stranger enter the Palace. The guards were also told by Duke Gareth the Elder to be doubly wary of any suspicious person lurking around the walls. This could be translated into question every one you see, whether you know them or not, they are not to be trusted until we know what their purposes are.  
  
"My name's William of Britannia," Will said loudly and clearly, "My purpose at the Palace is to see the Duke of Naxen, all other business is my own." His voice was cold and crisp, leaving no room or argument.  
  
The guard turned away from Will for a moment and he heard a faint shout, and Will guessed he was calling a superior officer over, in order to consult over Will's permission to be let into the Palace. Another man strode up to the guard. He did not wear the maroon and tan uniform that Will had seen on the other soldiers, but much finer tunic of red and gold. The two men conversed for a few minutes and then the first guard that had spoken to Will before shouted down to him. They were going to open the gate for him.  
  
Will heard orders being shouted and the Great wooden doors in front of Will gave a creak and began to slowly inch open. Once they were fully opened, Will grabbed hold of Ëmmelíre's reins in one and Mona's in the other. He gently led his two horses through the Gates and inside the Palace walls. As Will passed through the walls, he looked up and was amazed to see the chiselled stones were three or four feet thick. The guards were well trained fed, the walls were thick, and the Palace could become a great fortress if the need arose. Will hoped never would.  
  
As soon as Will and his horses were through the gates, Will heard gears screech as the doors squeaked shut once again. Will turned back to the Palace before him. He soon found out spectacular wooden carvings on the gates were nothing compared to the immense beauty of the Palace. Will was in a large courtyard used to greet guests, all around him servants milled, taking baggage and horses from weary travellers and snobbish nobles. Paved paths formed a complicated pattern of twisting roads, which intersected one another constantly. Great sculptures of stone and greenery stood elegantly at every corner of each path. The stone statues were carved with such detail that Will was surprised that they were not indeed alive. Beside him were two beautifully pruned bushes, cut to form perfect replicas of what Will guessed were the king and queen of Tortall.  
  
Along one of the wider paths, paved with even cobble stones, was a fat, young looking man that seemed to be hobbling towards Will. Finally, for even though the distance between them wasn't very long the man had walked painfully slowly, the man arrived in front of him. With one more quick look around him, Will turned his attention to the slightly out of breath figure in front of him. He appeared to be a clerk, aged between 25 and 30. He was dressed in a simple tunic of green, and a brown hose. The clerk, despite is young age was very fat, his chin doubled and his cheeks dimpled when he talked. Within his plump face were two watery blue eyes, set under dark hair. In his hand, Will noticed, a scroll was help tightly.  
  
"Good afternoon to you, sir," he said politely, "I'm sorry if I cause you difficulty of any kind, but I hope sir, that you will realize I am just doing my duty."  
  
Will frowned, feeling slightly puzzled, "I'm sorry," he said to the small, cubby man in front of him, "But I'm afraid I don't understand."  
  
The clerk nodded apologetically at him, with his fat cheeks jiggling and sweat beading on his brow under the summer sun, "You see, sir," he began, "It is has been ordered by their Majesties, King Raold and Queen Lianne, that all travelers entering the castle must check in with a clerk before a hostler may take care of their mounts and belongings."  
  
He look at Will quickly, as if he expected him to explode at the injustice of a noble having to state their business and name, as if they weren't important enough! Obviously, Will thought, there has been more than one snob to throw a fit over this. To Will however, it was not in the least bit irritating.  
  
Suddenly, Will heard a loud crunch and the sound of chewing. Both Will and the clerk looked over at Mona and Will felt his cheeks redden as the clerk raised an eyebrow. Mona, who had gotten bored during Will's talk with the clerk had decided to take a sizeable bite out of the nearest bush sculpture to them, which just had to be the one of Queen Lianne. "Uhhh..." Will stammered, embarrassed, he couldn't stop looking at the place where Queen Lianne's nose had been, "I'm sorry. She's never done this before..." His voice trailed off and he gave Mona a dirty look, which the pony returned innocently.  
  
"No matter," said the clerk briskly, "I'll tell the gardeners and they'll fix it up. Now, sir, I still need your name and purpose here." His ways quirked into a smile, "Quick, before your pony eats the whole Royal family."  
  
Will blushed again and said quickly: "Yes, right. My name's William of Britannia and I'm here to see Duke Gareth. I do believe that he will be expecting me."  
  
The plump man's face lit up in recognition at the mention of Will's name. It turned from one of bemusement to one of respect, despite Will's young age.  
  
"Quite right, your lordship," he said, doubly respectful. Will frowned slightly at this very formal title. He much preferred sir, if not just Will. "The Duke has expecting your arrival. For three days, in fact... You'd best see him right away, my lord. Begging your pardon, but the Duke of Naxen does not like to be kept waiting longer than necessary."  
  
Without waiting for Will to reply, he turned and shouted out three names. In response to his call, three figures approached Will and the clerk along a different, more narrow path than the one that the clerk came by. All three of them glanced at the marred sculpture of the Queen and then at Will and Will felt heat rise to his face once again.  
  
"Stefan, Jack," ordered the clerk, "Take milord's mounts here to the stables and see that they get a good rub down as well as each a stall and clean water. Once you've done that, get a couple of other servants and take milord William's belongings to his quarters. You know where they are." The two figures, one a tall muscular man and the other a lad a bit older than Will, nodded obediently. They set off, each holding the reins of one his mounts. Will saw out of the corner of his eye the lad named Stefan murmur softly to Emma as he led her away, stroking her nose gently as he did so.  
  
Once of the two hostlers had disappeared to the stables with Mona and Emma, the clerk turned to address the remaining of the three summoned men. The man was of mid height, with light sun bleached brown hair and sharp green eyes. The clothes he wore were of much finer quality than the clerk's and the colours more majestic; the man wore a bright blue tunic and equally bright hose. He looked quite handsome dressed in such finery.  
  
The clerk quickly announced the man to be Timon Greendale, the man that would take Will to see the Duke. Will smiled a little uncertainly at him and the man grinned back at him widely, revealing a full mouth of pearly white teeth. The smile was cut short by a sharp order from the clerk.  
  
"Timon," he said, "This is Master William of Britannia. You will take him to his Grace to get an audience with him as immediately as possible. The boy is to get there with the utmost of haste. Do you understand?"  
  
The clerk looked at the taller, handsome man with an air superiority, despite his lack of height. The chubby clerk chest was puffed out rather like a pigeons as he pulled his rank. The man named Timon's eyes sparkled with laughter at the puffed up little man in front of him. Despite this, Timon kept his voice solemn.  
  
"Yes, sir," Timon replied gravely, "As you wish."  
  
He turned to Will, laughter still lighting up his eyes to a bright emerald green.  
  
"Please follow me, Master William," Using the same serious tone he had with the overblown clerk, "The Duke awaits."  
  
He turned his back on the clerk and beckoned for Will to follow him. The clerk, apparently satisfied with his use of power, [what little he had that is], also turned away. The two men walked down separately paths, the clerk, jauntily bouncing off one near the stables, and the other walking quickly towards the massive Palace. Quickly, Will ran to catch up with this guide. One thing was for sure; he no more wanted to get lost in the Palace than he did on the streets of Corus.  
  
The doors outside the Dukes office were big. Very big. Will looked up and saw that the reached almost to the ceiling, which was also tall. Very tall. Timon stood beside him. That at least was something. During the long walk through the intricate halls and corridors of the Palace, Timon had opened up a bit. He told Will many jokes about various nobles they passed and pointed out large statues or rooms that Will good use as landmarks, in case he ever got lost. Will quickly memorized where they were. He had a feeling he would need them. Timon was friendly, and with his witty remarks, Will felt himself warm up to the man immediately. With any luck, Timon would become a good friend of Will's.  
  
The thick wooden doors that separated him from the Duke began to move. Slowly, it seemed to Will painfully slowly, they began slide open. When they were fully opened, Timon slipped in a head of Will and announced in a loud clear voice: "William of Britannia, here to see his Grace, Duke Gareth of Naxen."  
  
It took a pointed stare from Timon and a slight nudge before Will got the message. He stepped into the room, feeling a twinge of nervousness. Instinctively, Will let his hand rest on the hilt of his sword. The cool metal of the hilt calmed him, and Will felt more at ease than most boys were when they faced the Duke of Naxen for the first time. But then again, Will was not most boys.  
  
The Duke of Naxen was tall and thin. Long legs were stretched beneath the desk at which he sat. His hair was mouse brown and strait, which was accompanied by equally dull eyes. But all the same, Will good feel an air of command and respect that surrounded the man. The man was dressed richly, as should be expected of one of his status. His robes were of the same colour as Timon's, except of finer much richer material. The man wore a beautiful velvet doublet, which housed a fine silk tunic. Will could not see because his legs were hidden under the desk, but he suspected that the rich man wore silk stockings as well.  
  
When the Duke spoke, Will found his voice to be nasal and light.  
  
"William of Britannia," he said thoughtfully, "So sit down," he pointed to one of two plush looking chairs in front of his desk. Will obeyed.  
  
When he had done so, the Duke continued.  
  
"I am to understand that you want to train her to become a knight?"  
  
"Yes, your Grace," Will said quietly, but clearly.  
  
"I knew your master," said the Duke, "He was a brave and honourable man and a good knight." He looked intently at Will; "I should hope he was passed on some of his qualities to you during your training with him."  
  
"He has very high expectations of, it seems," Duke Gareth continued, he picked up a letter from his desk, "This letter has nothing but praise for your ability. I hope that you will live up to his rather great expectations."  
  
"I will try, your Grace," was Will's answer. He thought it best to be cautious and say as little as possible in front of such an important man as the Duke. One wrong step, and his quest here would be over before it started.  
  
Duke Gareth looked at Will sternly and addressed in an equally serious tone.  
  
"You're here, William of Britannia to become a squire. You will learn first how to be a squire, or I'm afraid you will never pass the Ordeal into knighthood. For now, you will be the squire of my son, Sir Gareth the Younger."  
  
"You will wait on him at dinner, look after his belongings and run any errands he has for you. But I trust you already know all of these things." He gave Will a not unkind smile.  
  
"Yes, your Grace," Will said again.  
  
"Timon!" the Duke barked sharply, the noise was so sudden that Will jumped slightly at the sound of it. "Get this boy properly outfitted. I want to see him start serving at dinner by tomorrow night at the latest."  
  
The Duke turned back to Will, any trace of understanding or kindness that Will had seen in the Dukes smile before had vanished. His eyes were cold as steel. "You will grow to like me, boy, or you will grow to hate even the mention of my name. This decision is up to you. But remember this, William, obey the rules and we shall not meet often. Disobey them? And I think you'll learn to hate me. You're dismissed."  
  
Will stood up from the comfortable chair in which he sat. Bowing to the Duke he said,  
  
"Yes, your Grace, I will remember."  
  
Just as Will turned to leave, he heard the Duke say one last thing,  
  
"William," he said, Will turned around, "That is a beautiful blade you have. Take care of it."  
  
Once again, Will bowed to Duke Gareth. "I will, your Grace."  
  
An hour and a half later found Will eyeing himself with wry amusement in a polished silver mirror. Will raised an eyebrow and the side of his mouth twitched. He would have just as much, if not more trouble getting used to his Palace uniform than he did breeches.  
  
Will tugged at his silvery blue hose. This part of the uniform would take the most to get used to; they felt like tights! The rest of his attire was just as stunningly bright as the hose. He wore a bright green long-sleeved shirt and over top a silvery blue tunic the same shade as his hose. Embroidered into the front of the tunic was a green symbol. It was the same that he had seen on Timon, so will guessed that it was the Naxen coat of arms. Since he was to serve to Gareth's son, he was dressed in Naxen colours.  
  
Will looked up from the mirror and around at the small chamber he stood in. A bed was tucked away in one corner, with simple cotton and wool sheets. It was comfortable enough, Will had tried it.  
  
At the foot of his bed stood a chest. Will guessed when he first saw it that al pages and squires got a trunk to place all of their personal belongings in. But with closer examination, Will found that it was almost identical to the one he saw Merriman hold at the weapons' store. Some how, Will couldn't feel too surprised that he'd found in here. It had the same dark would, with the intertwining silver pieces. But when Will bent down to look closer at it, he found one thing on it that was different from the other chest. It had no lock. Merriman had opened the cash box with and old-fashioned looking key. On this chest, there seemed to be no opening for any sort of key whatsoever. There was no sign that it could be opened, but Will knew it could.  
  
In the place of what should have been where the lock was, a large, polished ornament was placed elegantly on the front of the chest's curving lid. The ornament was silver, forged of the same gleaming metal that the other weaving designs were made of. It was a circle quartered by a cross. The sign of the Light that was ever turning up in Will's life.  
  
Speaking softly in Old Speech, Will gently traced his fingers over the sign and asked it politely to open. It did. No other magic would have been able to open the chest except that of himself. Will could feel the spells that held it shut and at his will opened the impenetrable trunk.  
  
The rest of the room was small and plain, but comfortable, just like his bed. There was a night table, desk, dresser and mirror all squeezed in to the tiny space. Hmmm... Will thought, he would need to see if he could get a bookshelf in his room.  
  
Then Will remembered: the furniture and his bewitched chest were not the only things squashed into his room. In between his desk and the dresser a sturdy wooden door stood. Will recognized it as the one that led out into the hall, one of the many areas of the Palace reserved for nobles training to become a knight. But beside his dresser, another door stood.  
  
This door seemed less sturdy, more just as a door than something to keep people from entering his room. It was the door that separated his sleeping quarters from Sir Gareth's, Will's knight master. Wills eyes noted the lock on the door. It was small and almost useless. Before his time was through, Will decided that it he would get a proper lock on the door. It certainly would not do for Sir Gareth or any other person to come barging into his room unannounced. Will eyed the other lock on the outside door again. He'd better get that one replaced too.  
  
Voices nearby jerked Will from his musings. They were close, really close. Quickly Will stood from his crouched position beside the magical trunk. He sat on his bed and cocked his ears and listened closely.  
  
"It's been almost three days..." he heard one say.  
  
"Well the week's not finished yet," said another voice, deeper than the first.  
  
Will heard a sigh, "I know, Raoul, its just that its so horrible sitting cooped up in the Palace waiting for him to arrive. I can't stand this wait. I either want to come quickly or not come at all..." The voiced faded off then quickly piped up again, this time a little more cheerful.  
  
"O wow," it said, "I am acting a bit of a snob. Don't mind me, Raoul, its just nerves."  
  
Will heard the sound of a door being tugged open and then shut loudly. Will's heart gave a jump. They were in the room adjacent to his; they were in Sir Gareth's room.  
  
The rest of the conversation was muffled from Will's ears as he held a silent debate with himself as to whether or not he should interrupt the group next door or not. As the debate still ran full-fledged through his head, the opposing parties were forced to stop their fierce debate as the voices became too loud to ignore. Suddenly, what they were saying registered fully once again in Will's brain.  
  
They were coming into his room, to see if the new boy, which Will suspected was himself, had arrived yet. Quickly, Will grabbed for the first thing that he could find, a book. Will hastily opened the book around the mid section and buried his nose into it, pretending to be engrossed by the story.  
  
In reality, the young Old Ones' heart has hammering and his stomach was twisting unpleasantly. Any moment now they would open the door joining the two rooms and see him.  
  
The door nudged open with a squeak and Will felt his hands tighten on the edges of his book. Four tentative heads peaked around the corner of door. Luckily, the candles that lit Will's room had been burning since he arrived there. They had burned until they were quite low now, only giving off a little light. As Will was in the far corner from the doorway, he was also in shadows and was given a chance to observe the four intruders before they saw him.  
  
The topmost person's head was dark, with countless of tiny chestnut ringlets that fell around his tanned face. The hazel eyes of the young man were kind and good-natured.  
  
The figure hovering below the topmost boy was also revealed to be a young man of about 19. He two had chestnut hair, but it was strait and was cropped short. Under this, the young many had deep honey brown eyes, which were kind and soft to those he liked and sharp and cold to his enemies. Will suspected that this ones wit was as sharp as his eyes.  
  
The third face was younger than the other two, but only by a year. The lad was about 18 and did not have brown hair like the young men above him but coal black hair. It was cut like the man's with strait hair, although the boy had allowed to grow a bit longer. Under his mop of dark hair were to brilliantly bright eyes of sapphire blue. They shone with intelligence and regal command. The boy was a born leader.  
  
Although Will had been impressed by the other three boys, he felt his senses as an Old One leap when he saw the fourth stooping figure. The boy small and fair, younger than the others by at least two years. He worse his hair slightly different, with it longer and pulled back into a short pony. But it wasn't the style so much that caught Will's attention; it was the colour of his hair. The colour was unusual: coppery, that shown a fiery red. The beneath his red hair, the boy had a pair of eyes that Will had seen before. Somewhere important. The boy's eyes were violet, a rare and true amethyst only seen in the most valuable of gems. They took like all of the other boys were intelligent and filled with a desire to learn. Will also recognized something else in them; the boy was hiding something. But before Will was given a chance to speculate further on the smallest boy, the chestnut with strait hair got sight of him.  
  
Will stared unseeingly at the pages of his book (Little did he know, but he was reading it upside down!), he knew they saw him, but there was no way in hell that he would make the first move. If they wanted him to speak, they would have to acknowledge him first.  
  
By now, the youths had deserted their post by the door and had all walked into his room, staring curiously at him. It took a lot of his self- control, but Will managed to act as if he didn't know they were there. He did a passable job of it as well.  
  
Finally, the raven haired boy stepped forward and cleared his throat loudly saying,  
  
"Hello, my name is Prince Jonathon. You must be the new squire."  
  
Will looked up from his book finally, but didn't bother to feign a look of surprise at the youth's sudden appearance. Slowly, Will gazed at each of them separately before replying. The smallest of the boys, the one with copper hair and purple eyes looked more than a little unnerved by Will's even stare. Little did Will know, Alanna was being reminded greatly of the Great Mother Goddess, who had that same, steady ageless stare. The resemblance was unnerving.  
  
"Hallo," Will said calmly, once he was finished looking at the young men before him. He did not get up from his perch on the bed.  
  
"Yes, you are right, you Highness, I am the new squire. My name is William of Britannia."  
  
The long formal title of Will's name felt foreign on his lips. He would have much preferred 'Will Stanton'.  
  
Then, without warning, Will's face broke out into an easy grin.  
  
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Prince Jonathon," Will said in a friendly voice, "I look forward to getting to know you and your friends better."  
  
THANKS SO MUCH FOR READING!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now please please please please review!!!!!!  
  
For all those who are wondering, Will is not gifted because his magic is different from those who are Gifted. Will's is more powerful, after all he is an Old One  
  
Cheers,  
  
-Norah


	8. Into The Lion's Den

**Title: And One Go Alone Author: Norah-hunt**  
  
**Summary:** After the last great rising, it is not Merriman that is destined to go alone. High magic has other plans for Will Stanton, last of the Old Ones. And it is the will of the gods which Will is transported into the world of Tortall, in which Alanna of Trebond masquerades as a boy, and Roger the Duke of Conte plots to overthrow the throne. Yes, the Dark has been banished from our world, but it small wings still have some control and power in the distant places of the universe, outside of our time. It's a Dark Is Rising/Song Of The Lioness Crossover, so please humour me and read it. :p

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own Will or Alanna or any other characters, places, ideas and concepts mentioned in this story.   
  
** A/N:** hey guys. Sorry this took so long to get up. I was seriously having a hard time with it. Anyways, its up now, but the only reason is because of memet. Thanks them for this chapter. For their "gentle reminder" that I hadn't updated in a while.  
  
Anyways, on Wed I'm going away for a while [almost a month], so I won't be updating for a while. Again.  
  
Dodges flying rotten tomatoes Sorry guys! It's not my fault, well yes it is but I'll keep writing at my cottage. Even though we have no computers, and not even cable. But hey, that's what paper and pens are for. Now, for replies to reviews.  
  
**Memet:** Aah, my most faithful reviewer. Thanks for helping me out so much. This chappie's for you again. Btw, you were the first person to review for the last chapter. So thanks again. :D  
  
**A-man:** yup, you're right, she's pretending to be a boy. And you should read SOTT. It's one of my favourite books. But all you need to know is that the Light beat the Dark. Hope you enjoy this chapter too.  
  
**Elby:** I'm glad you're enjoying it, thanks SO much for reading it! I dunno, will our hero discover Alanna? Evil grin o well. I guess you'll have to wait and see how the story goes.  
  
**Anon:** Why thank you. I must say that is quite a compliment. Well I hope you enjoy this chapter.  
  
**Eldrice:** Yup it seems Will has just about everything he needs to have an adventure. And yes what about Stefan's message? Well sorry to say that this chapter doesn't focus on that, but it definitely will come up later. As to the no commoners in the Palace rule, I made that up. I assumed that ever since the sweating sickness the security of the Palace would be definitely tighter. After all, who knows what lurks in the city's darkest corners? Yes. Basically, Merriman is the equivalent of Mithros in Alanna's world and the Lady is the Great Mother Goddess. What would that make Will? grin Have fun guessing that. Italy was fabulous, btw. I hope you get a chance to get there sometime too.  
  
Aquilastor: Thanks for the review. Well here's the update. I hope you like it! : D  
  
**Hillyhp2590:** Wow. You certainly have a nice penname. Lots of numbers and h's. Ok moving on. Thanks. I like "wow's" and this is the next chapter hope you like it!  
  
**Livie:** I also like words like fantastic. Thanks. Here's the next chapter, although I must say, it took me long enough to get it up, and it isn't even that long.  
  
**Name1:** uhh.. don't ask. It was stanely cup play-off season. I love you lots for reviewing. Here's the update. Enjoy and review!  
  
**DilwysAuberon:** ooh. Nice penname. Is it Welsh? Anyways, thanks for reviewing and here's the update.  
  
**Insanechildfanfic:** In a word – Thanks.  
  
Sorry if I missed anyone!  
  
OK thanks for everyone who reviewed! And I'm sorry that this chapter is a little short. O, and everyone **GO SEE KING ARTHUR THE MOVIE! It's spectacular. Keep a look out for Lancelot. He's really hot and he's a good actor. His name's Ioan Gruffudd [pronounced Yo-wan Griffith]  
**  
And this chapter is dedicated [again] to......  
  
**MEMET!** Because without you, this chapter would not exist.  
  
Enjoy!

* * *

Will's breath came out harsh. His ragged gasps tore at his chest as he blinked away sweat that threatened to drip into his eyes. He felt as if he'd run a marathon. Which in a sense, he did – which he would have if his efforts had been concentrated on running, but as it were, they were not. It must be said that at the moment Will's attention was not focused on his mission to find the magical sword Miriel, nor searching for the agent of the Dark. For the moment at least, Will was fully preoccupied with the situation at hand: Trying to win a sparring match with a particularly difficult opponent. They were fast and very adept with a sword. Although, the ring that Merriman had given Will in the Great Hall of the Light had helped him immensely, it did not stop Will from feeling all his sore tired muscles, as they groaned in protest at this sudden exercise, coupled with the thick heavy padding that he wore.  
  
A whistling blade suddenly came veering towards Will. Quickly he jumped back and used the sword he'd bought from Merriman to parry the blow. The jarring of the impact was a sign for Will to return his full concentration back to the fight, which had somehow wandered off. His opponent was small; the red headed boy he had met on his first night at the Palace, the one with purple eyes. Alan was his name, Will recalled.  
  
Alan watched Will, warily looking at his chest to see which way he would strike. That was okay, Will didn't mind. His new instinct and skill, provided by the ring, allowed Will to determine when and where he should attack. Not now. He waited -- he and Alan circling one another. Both of them were out of breath, sweaty and weary. Soon he would have his moment to attack.  
  
Will had been at the Palace for a week already. It had been a tiring, sore, painful week, but nonetheless bearable. Gary and all the others were swiftly becoming his friends. On Will's first night at the Palace, he and Alan, Jon, Raoul and of course Gary had spent an evening chatting and getting to know one another. Alan, Raoul, Gary and Jon had all snuck into his room, wondering if the "new squire" had arrived yet. He had. Will and the others chatted about many things, where they came from, what there hobbies were. When asked about his homeland and master, Will answered them as best he could, turning the western fief of Britannia into a miniature version of England, more specifically like his own home. Alan, he learned came from Trebond. His knight master, Gary, was also friendly and Will had not been wrong when he first saw Gary as sharp and witty. Will found himself laughing every time Gary made a joke. Telling him about all the different characters at court, in a way that would turn his father purple with outrage. The Prince Jonathon and Alan seemed very close -- and Will had no doubt in his mind that Alan was hiding something. His instinct as an Old One also told him that when the time was right he would know Alan's secret. But whether his friends would ever know his, Will didn't know.  
  
Now was his chance. Will's muscles tensed in preparation for the move that would end this match. Alan had left his right side open for attack as he too shook his head slightly to shake sweat away, if only for a split second the distraction of his opponent was enough for Will. He was just about to spring when Will remembered something important that Merriman had told him.  
  
"...Although, you must be careful to display only enough of your newfound skills so that you may pass all of the drills and tests that you are required to undergo as a squire..."  
  
A boy newly become a squire would not have the agility and skill to do something like that. So Will did the only thing he could deem appropriate. It would serve two purposes; one it would end the match and secondly, it would take notice away from him and make him stand out less among the squires.  
  
With a pained grunt, Will pretended to slip, causing him to stumble. Alan saw this chance and lunged in. Using a fairly complex butterfly swing, Will felt the sword wrench from his grasp. His blade was flung far from Will. Although, we will say that Will, for his pride's sake, did help the blade along.  
  
It clattered with a large clang upon the cool stone floor of the practice ring. Alan then swiftly raised his sword so that it pointed at Will's throat, in the kill position.  
  
Will grinned. "Well done," he said amiably.  
  
Alan returned the smile and lowered his sword.  
  
From the small crowd of other squires that had come to watch their match, there were cheers for both Alan and Will, although mostly for Alan. Will didn't mind though. Alan was about reply when they heard a voice rise of above the boys' shouts.  
  
It was thin and slightly nasal. Will didn't recognize it immediately, although the other boys obviously did. They fell silent almost immediately. It was Duke Gareth.  
  
"Impressive," was the cool commanding tone, "Well done both of you. You have greatly improved Alan."  
  
The group of boys parted as the Duke of Naxen walked up to the training court. Will watched the Duke, feeling slightly silly in his sweat soaked padded armour. When Duke Gareth reached them, he looked directly at Will. His eyes pierced into Will and for a second Will felt as if he were naked and all of his secrets exposed.  
  
But the Duke only said: "William, once you have finished your lessons, you are required to visit Duke Roger Of Conté immediately."  
  
"But...." A protest began to blossom forth from Will's lips, but the Duke had already turned to go. Obviously he had more important things to do than listen to a boy question a direct order. Will frowned. He had told them that he didn't have the Gift, and Will saw no other reason why he should be summoned by Prince Jonathon's uncle, the Duke Roger. Duke Roger taught all of the pages and squires, who had the Gift, magic. He was the most powerful sorcerer in all of Tortall, and danger usual came with power. Will had heard from some of he other boys that even if you tried to hide your Gift From him, he would find out.  
  
He looked up at Alan, his frown still plastered to his face. Alan looked just as unsettled. He knew that Will didn't have the Gift, but it seemed that he had other reasons to be troubled about Will's abrupt summoning.  
  
"Well, it looks like I'd we'd better get cleaned up for lunch." Will said. Then after a moment added, "Can you do me a favour?"  
  
"Yes?" was the reply.  
  
"I've never met the Duke of Conté, so could you, uh, show me where his chambers are?"  
  
Alan seemed to think this over for a moment, the agreed.  
  
"Shall I meet you by my chambers half an hour after lessons end?" Will asked,  
  
Alan nodded, he had some thinking of his own to do in that half hour after lessons, but first they needed to get changed for lunch and then their daily classes taught by the Mithran priest and thankfully Sir Myles. The two boys then began the process of stripping of the padding they had used during their fight. Once out of it, Will felt much better. He was no longer blanketed by the oppressive hotness of the thick fabric. He and Alan then left the practice court, which still held a couple of the boys who had watched their match, and made their way over towards the door which would lead them to their rooms. Will let Alan lead, he still was unsure of his abilities to navigate around the Palace.  
  
Soon they reached the hallway where their paths split. Will would go to his rooms, near Gary and Alan towards Jon's. With a quick good bye to each other they headed off down the halls.  
  
Once Will reached his room, he changed back into the soon becoming familiar blue and green tunic. There was no time for bathing before lunch, so Will just pulled a face and resigned himself to being smelly.  
  
As Will was pulling his shoes, leather almost slipper like boots, he heard a bell. It was the bell calling all pages and squires to lunch and then to lessons. With an exasperated grunt, Will quickly pulled the boot on with a jerk. With this done he hurried out of his rooms and down a corridor to which he hoped would lead him to the Dining Hall.

* * *

The lessons taught by the Priests were irritating and almost painful to sit through. They were teaching stuff that he had learned years ago. The "thinking arts," as Will had heard Alan call them, turned out to be classes on basic reading and writing skills as well as mathematics.  
  
The first class that he had that day was reading and writing. On Will's first day, even though he was fifteen, the priest had made him prove that he could read and write. Then he allowed Will to join up with the rest of the class. Currently, as was soon explained by Alan, they were learning how to write a proper paragraph. Inwardly, Will had groaned, this quest was going to be a long one, with all the added tediousness of these studies. Alan seemed to sense Will's dismay and flashed him a grin.  
  
"Don't worry," he said, "Sooner or later you fall asleep and then your suffering ends,"  
  
Will had to laugh at this. Nevertheless, it was against his nature to neglect school and not pay attention, so Will found himself doing the impossibly simple assignments that were thrust in front of his face by the Mithran priests.  
  
There were only two subjects of the "thinking arts" that Will found interesting. One was history. It was taught by a knight named Sir Myles. It seemed all of the squires seemed to enjoy it as well, especially Alan. Will sensed a deep friendship ran between his friend and the old knight.  
  
Will loved to learn at heart, and he had to admit that Sir Myles made history even more appealing than it had been to him before. It was also a way to get useful information that could be stored away to be called upon if need be. The other boys seemed to think so as well. They all sat up straighter in their desks, and looked intently at the front of the classroom. Will sensed a slight feeling of anticipation coming from the boys around him.  
  
The other one, though Will would never admit it, was the deportment or manners class. It fascinated Will, all the different titles and words that were to be addressed to only specific people. He found these courts and government very interesting, and compared often with his own modern government, back in England, where ever that was. And so Will learned how to bow, how to address a Duke, and Earl and everything in between.  
  
But today, Will could only feel a growing nervousness and apprehension, which withered uncomfortably in the bottom of his stomach. Will tried to understand why he felt so nervous; after all he was just meeting Duke Roger. How bad could it be? Will's stomach knotted itself even tighter and Will winced. He didn't want an answer to his question.  
  
It seemed that Will was not the only one who was having trouble concentrating that day. Alan also seemed troubled. He wasn't his usually alert self, even in their history class with Sir Myles.  
  
It was all too soon when the loud bell rang, announcing the end to all their classes that day. Will heard it with a feeling close to dread. But the worst thing was, Will couldn't fully explain these feelings to himself. In truth, he thought to himself, he couldn't really explain them at all. His senses as an Old One were ringing deafening alarm bells inside his head. Don't go, they said. Dangerous. Meeting the Duke is dangerous. But Will had no choice. His seemingly irrational desire to not meet Duke Roger would not be easily explained to the Duke of Naxen.  
  
After Will's classes had ended, he caught Alan as he was leaving.  
  
"Hey, Alan," called Will, Alan turned and Will saw his troubled, violet eyes stare back at him.  
  
Will made a decision then, he wouldn't make Alan take him to Duke Roger. He had seen how uncomfortable this request had seemed to make his friend.  
  
"You don't have to take me to Duke Rogers," Will said, "I'm sure I'll be able to find my own way. Besides, with that lot of work that we got in writing, I know you'll need that extra time for studying."  
  
Will didn't say that it would only be a few minutes out of Alan's way to take him to Duke Roger's chambers. He looked intently at Alan. The boy kept his face free of emotion, but Will saw the masses of emotions that battled inside Alan through the window of his eyes. His purple eyes flashed with relief, but then they were quickly replaced as shame of his fear. The last emotion that his eyes revealed to Will was determination.  
  
"No," he told Will, his voice surprisingly steady, "I don't mind, it's a five minute detour on my part. I'll meet you by your room in half an hour." Alan shut his mouth before he could say he'd changed his mind.  
  
Will flashed him a grin, "Thanks," he said.  
  
And with that, the two squires headed off down the hallways, which would lead them to their rooms. Three-quarters down the hallway, Alan turned left towards her room and the Prince Jonathon's chambers. Will watched him go, until he was out of sight. Yes, thought Will to himself, there's definitely something strange about Alan. But Will pushed that aside; he had more important things to worry about. Will checked one more time to see if Alan, or any other person was watching him, then said a quick word of power and disappeared. He had a meeting to go to.

* * *

**Perception is now Alanna's so she shall be referred to as a girl and not Alan**  
  
After Alanna had turned down the corridor that led to her rooms, leaving Will behind, she was half way down the hallway when she realized that Faithful wasn't with her. In fact, he hadn't been around all day. Alanna also realized that whenever Will had been around, her cat had been absent as well. Alanna swore. She didn't need the added worry of her cat's new peculiar habit. Speaking of worrying [well, thinking really], there was still the fact that Roger had called on Will. She knew that she shouldn't be really worried, there was probably some innocent, meaningless meaning behind Will's summoning, but deep down, all her fears and suspicious stirred. What if Roger tried to gain Will's loyalties, after all, it was apparent that Will was fast becoming Jon's friend. And her friend too.  
  
She needed to take Will, that way she could be close, so that if anything happened she could be there to help. Not that anything would happen. But it would ease her nerves if she did so. Besides, in Alanna's view, it would be admitting weakness to be so reluctant to go near Roger. A little voice in her head also added, suspicious to him too.  
  
If the Duke was brewing any sort of plot, Alanna certainly didn't want the Roger to think she knew anything about it. She also remembered Jon's reaction to her suspicions long ago, after they'd defeated the monsters in the Black City. He would wonder why she didn't want to see his uncle. It was best to go with Will.  
  
Alanna stopped abruptly as she had reached the door that led into her room. Quickly she reached up to turn the knob and then cursed, remembering she had locked it. Clumsy with haste and irritation, Alanna dug her hands into the pocket of her long, over-sized tunic. It took Alanna only a few moments before her fingers finally closed around the small shape, but it felt like ages, frustrating, slow, annoying ages. And then, the door was open and Alanna was quickly running inside and shutting the door with a snap.  
  
Once in her room, Alanna went and sat on the comfortable softness of her bed. It was already occupied.  
  
With a surprised yelp, Alanna leapt up and whirled around her hand half reaching for her sword. Alanna quickly let a relieved sigh and let her hand relax.  
  
"Faithful!" she cried, "What the in Mithros name are you doing on my bed?" Her annoyance and unease made Alanna's temper shorter than it usually was. Her cat merely, stretched comfortably and yawned,  
  
"You might want to watch where your sitting." Said the cat, then it smiled with a tint a of wickedness, "You might end up on Prince Jonathon's lap."  
  
"Don't be ridiculous," Alanna said crossly, her cat was so silly at times! "You're being no help at all. Where have you been all day? Wait, let's change that to, where have you been all week?"  
  
"Oh, I've been around the Palace," Faithful meowed vaguely. Faithful's violet eyes revealed nothing to Alanna that would hint at where "around the Palace" was.  
  
"Fine, be that way," said Alanna, she was still angry and worried about Will. It was troubling to her that someone as powerful and potentially dangerous as Duke Roger would have any interest in her new friend.  
  
With a sigh, Alanna sat back down on her bed, this time beside her cat. Petting the small feline absently, Alanna took deep breaths to ease her nerves. Faithful purred, supremely satisfied. Thin tendrils of white fire seemed to radiate from the small black cat. Its eyes grew bright until they were almost glowing -- and still he purred. The soft drone of Faithful's purrs became entwined with the white magic that came from him as well. They danced around one another, until the soft purrs became so infatuated with magic, that they became to take affect.

It was despite the many efforts put forth by Alanna that she fell asleep. She felt herself begin to drift often into the strange realm of slumber and dreams, but the wave of tiredness caused by her worry and physical challenges were hard to shake off. And she was so tired already... Sleep came at last, and Alanna was in the world where the impossible became possible and imagination remained free. Although, it must be said that not all dreams are nonsense, mere ill-fitted puzzle pieces that are shoved together. No, in some dreams the pieces are perfectly constructed. There is no flaw in the resulting dream, and the dreamer enters no longer a world of their imagination, but a world that is real. They were magical dreams.  
  
As it was, our brave heroine was having such a dream.

* * *

Alanna found herself in walking outside the Palace, on the grounds. Confused, she stopped. Wasn't she just in her rooms? And where was that dratted cat again? She looked at the sky as if it would give her the answers she desperately craved. She sighed and looked around. This is a dream, Alanna decided, nothing more. She looked up at the sky again. The clear blue that it had been a moment ago was now tinged with red. The sun had began its slow decent into the western horizon.  
  
Speaking of western horizons, what was that? Alanna scanned the western part of the grounds; it was where the Royal Forest met the Palace wall. She thought she saw something, a flicker of movement, a man perhaps and something smaller.  
  
No, it wasn't the guards -- they all stood on the ramparts, grumbling at their posts. After all, what was the use keeping watch over a forest? To keep watch on exactly what Alanna had just seen. She felt a slight tinge of fear mixed with annoyance. Really, Alanna thought to herself, this is getting ridiculous, first Duke Roger wants Will, then Faithful disappears, now this. But Alanna was prone to turning a blind eye.  
  
Quickly she jogged over to where she had seen the flash of movement. As she approached the wall, she called to the soldiers on top.  
  
"Hey!" Alanna's voice rang out clearly through the relative silence of the early evening. "Hey! Didn't you see that thing over here? I think he must have gone through one of the side gates."  
  
The guards paid no heed to the small squire.  
  
"Hello?" said Alanna, a hint of steel edging its way into her voice, "Didn't you hear me? There were people leaving the Palace, probably unauthorized!"  
  
The soldiers kept their gazes glued the ever-darkening sky. Either they really didn't hear her or it was some sort of bad joke. With a frustrated sigh and a good number of curses, Alanna walked towards the small gate on the bottom of the western wall of the Palace. Her hand reached out to open the door, but was stanched back as if she'd been burned. It was the door that she Jon, Gary, Raoul, and Alex had all used that night when Gary told them about Will. Alanna hadn't forgotten the visit from the Great Mother Goddess that night, nor had she forgotten her last words: "Look to the Old One and you will find hope..."  
  
This is a dream, Alanna told herself again. Albeit a strange one, but a dream. It can't hurt to follow those things.  
  
And with that, well maybe a bit more, Alanna lifted the large latch that held the door shut and walked into the yawning darkness of the Royal Forest. A few steps into its leafy depths and Alanna was in a different world. There were no muffled calls from guardsmen, and she was free from the noises and smells of countless people, working, talking, and laughing in the Palace.  
  
A twig snapped up ahead and she heard a muttered curse. Alanna felt herself go rigged, her muscles tensed and she slowly crept closer. And then a familiar voice made her freeze.  
  
"Shh!" it hissed, "Do you want to wake up everything thing in the Forest? We're almost there, save your breath for then."  
  
"Sorry," was the whispered reply; also familiar.  
  
Perhaps Faithful hadn't been avoiding Will after all . . .  
  
Soon the two voices were accompanied by a slight rustle as they slid through the underbrush. Alanna followed them until they reached the edge of a clearing. It wasn't the same one that she and others had visited the night that the Goddess came to her, but it was similar. In the centre, like the other one, there was a smooth, round boulder. This time, it was not Alanna and her friends that gathered around it, but Faithful and Will. Alanna slowly moved closer to the edge of the clearing.  
  
After a few moments search, Alanna found a large bush that would serve as a suitable hiding place. Even if she was in a dream, just because the guards couldn't see her, didn't mean Faithful wouldn't. Her cat was odd, magical almost, and she didn't want to be thought of as a spy. Reaching her hiding place, Alanna hunkered down. It was a good choice. It would cover her well and allow her to hear and see everything that went on between Will and her cat. She could also sit comfortably, another bonus.  
  
As Alanna watched the two figures, a thought struck her. Why could Will understand Faithful? Sometimes in the past, if she were in trouble or something, Faithful would make himself understood, but it seemed that Will was almost casual and could hear him as well as she could. Alanna jerked her attention back to the scene before her as Will began to speak.  
  
"Are you sure no one will hear us here?" he asked her cat, his eyes darted around.  
  
"Of course," said her cat, "I've checked this place over many times for spies. There's nothing. Really, Will, you should trust me more."  
  
Will nodded, "Sorry," he said, "I do trust you, but if you've been what I've been through, you always double check . . . To business then?" He asked suddenly.  
  
"Yes," said Faithful, his small head nodding gravely, "To business."  
  
Will said bluntly, "The Dark has not yet released its hold on these lands. Midsummer's happenings in my world have weakened it, but it was yet to be fully banished."  
  
"It is only the seconded of July here, is it not?" Will continued.  
  
"Yes," said Faithful, "it is."  
  
"Hmm," was the cat's only response. "The Dark will not attack then. It is still sorely wounded from its last defeat. A defeat that has led to his banishment from my world..."  
  
My world?, thought Alanna, what was Will talking about. This was one strange dream.  
  
"No," Will was speaking again, "They will wait until they have prepared fully. This attack may not come for many years, but like the Dark the Light must prepare as well. You are a servant of the Light, Faithful. The Lady did not send you to Alan to be his pet. You have also to keep him safe. My senses tell me that he will have some part to play in this quest."  
  
"Old One," said Faithful dryly, "You should really think higher of me. I know my mission and I will not fail."  
  
Old One? Will wasn't Old at all. Alanna was getting seriously confused. Something very strange was going on between her cat and Will. Hadn't the Goddess said something to her about and Old One? Alanna shook her head, trying to remember. Drat it! Why couldn't she! And what was this about her playing some part in a future quest? Will was acting insane. Maybe life at the Palace had gotten to him, or maybe it was the summer heat. But he was definitely not thinking straight.  
  
"Merriman and the Lady have told me how to defeat the agent of the Dark; I must find the legendary sword Miriel. Only that can kill the Dark's creature -- but first I must find him. He has somehow infiltrated the Palace, but for what evil purpose we do not know . . ."  
  
The Dark, the Light, and a sword legendary sword Miriel? What in Mithros' name were they talking about? Feeling as if she had stumbled upon something way beyond a normal person's comprehension, Alanna felt fear grasp her soul. Alanna returned her attention to the strange pair. Will was covered in shadow, his back to the dying sun. Faithful, on the other hand, shone in the fading light. The golden rays catching his soft fur, making him glow. With glowing fur and his strange eyes, Faithful looked almost supernatural. A sudden thought struck Alanna -- perhaps he was supernatural...  
  
Faithful had begun speaking again. "Yes," he said thoughtfully. "Someone who can who can attack from the inside. I have my suspicions, I think the agent of the Dark might be—" He broke suddenly, sniffing the air. "We are not alone. It is no longer safe to carry on this conversation. Let's move."  
  
Will nodded, suddenly alert. Alanna caught sight have Will's eyes and had to bite back a gasp. They were glowing! Blue-grey gems peered out from the shadowed face. They were sharp and alert, cold and merciless orbs on a stony face. This was not the Will she had gotten to know over the last week. Alanna held her breath, they were coming towards her!  
  
One more step and they'd be here, in front of her hiding place, with Will staring down at her with his cold eyes. The world around her started to dim. First Alanna had thought the faint fuzziness was just her tired eyes reacting to her nervousness, but everything not only appeared blurred but also was beginning to dim. She was leaving this place. The last of her vision blackened just as she saw Will reach forward to move her bush away and she saw no more.

* * *

Will reached out towards the large bush in front of him. He thought he got a faint snatch of a beautiful, rippling melody. It's sound familiar, its notes tickling his memory, goading him into remembering where he had heard that music before. Will felt the waxy leaves touch his skin as he brushed aside the plant. Nothing. Hmm. He said to himself, slightly bemused. Faithful was already ahead, calling back to him; obviously the cat had not caught that fait snatch of music.  
  
"Get a move on, Will!" he ordered, "Do you want to be left behind with whatever's out there?"  
  
Truth be told, Will, as an Old One had nothing to worry about – he could not be killed. But on the other hand, if that thing that had eavesdropped on them was a creature of the Dark, it just might be powerful enough to blast him out of time, so that by the time Will managed to make it back to Tortall, the Dark's damage would be done.  
  
Faithful was right, it was best to get a move on.

* * *

Alanna woke slowly, groggily propping herself up on her elbows. She was still on her bed. She yawned and stretched, reaching down to pat her cat, but he wasn't there. Slightly more awake, Alanna sat up fully. Where on earth had her cat gone now? She groaned. What a strange dream she'd had . . .  
  
What had it been about? Something about Faithful and a weird clearing in the Royal Forest. And, Alanna frowned slightly, Will. Why was she dreaming about Will? The details over her dream were fuzzy. All she remembered was a conversation during the sunset between to people. Who were they? Alanna shook her head. She also remembered two chips of steel; they were eyes, Alanna remembered, and they were searching for something. Peering into the dark shadows that surrounded their owner.  
  
Alanna's thoughts drifted off to Will . . . Will! She suddenly remembered she was supposed to take him to Duke Rogers. Alanna whirled around searching for anything in her room that would give her an idea of how long she had slept. Her search was interrupted by a knock at the door.  
  
"Are you decent, squire?" a deep voice asked, it was Jon and he was using their code phrase that meant someone was with him.  
  
"Come in," Alanna said distractedly.  
  
The door creaked open and in came Jon, followed by Raoul. Gary and Alex weren't there.  
  
Coming in, Raoul began explaining their friends' absences. "Gary couldn't come," he said, "I think he got into some trouble with Duke Gareth, although over what, I'm not sure of. And Alex, I'm not – Mithros Alan, are you all right?"  
  
Truth be told, Alanna did not look all right. Her hair was still tousled from her nap and she had no idea what time it was, both of which added to her haggard appearance. Will could be in there with Duke Roger, right now. Alone.  
  
Alanna ignored the question, "What time is it?" she asked instead.  
  
Jon frowned, "Half-past five, why do you ask?"  
  
"Oh no!" said Alanna fiercely, "Half-past five? Damn!"  
  
"What's wrong, Alan?" Jon asked, he was surprised at his friend's reaction.  
  
"I was supposed to meet Will half an hour after lessons. I. I fell asleep. What if he's been waiting for me for an hour! Will was going to see Duke Roger. During our sparring match, well at the end of it really, Duke Gareth came in and said Roger wanted to speak with him. What if Will's still waiting? Or lost in some part of the Palace. He only just got here a week ago, you know."  
  
Alanna didn't tell them that to her, it would be worse if Will had found his way to the Duke of Conté's rooms without her. What if something went wrong? She sighed unhappily. This day seemed to be one of the longest days of her life.  
  
"Well, why don't we go and look for him," suggested Raoul, "I mean, if it means so much to you, I'm sure Jon won't mind helping too." He looked at Jon pointedly, and Jon flushed. Alanna frowned, what was that supposed to mean? She would have to find out later, right now, they had Will to find.

* * *

Will, in fact, did not need finding at all. Alanna's cat Faithful had led him directly to Duke Roger's office; an action that was both good and somewhat bad. For one, he would not be late for his appointment. But he would have to explain to Alan why he had not waited and managed to find his own way there.  
  
Will pulled out a watch from a secret pocket in his tunic. Glancing around to see no one was looking, he checked it: 4:30, it read. He was right on time. Quickly Will stowed it away. It was a digital watch that he had brought with him from Wales. Well, to be fair, Will didn't do it on purpose because he didn't go to Tortall -- he was taken. A couple nights ago, when he was searching through his things he found it, along with all his other clothes from home.  
  
The outside of Duke Roger's office was lavishly decorated. Carved wood and stone danced their patterns along the walls and ceiling. It made Will slightly dizzy if he stared at one spot for too long. The Duke was also very fond of gold, Will decided, because every possible item that could be, was gilded in gold leaf. There were statues made of pure gold and curtains woven from gold thread. Will was happy that the curtains were drawn for he feared that the reflected sunset's light would have blinded him. A battle tactic, the Old One thought wryly to himself.  
  
A noise in front of him made Will look at the tall door he stood before. They were creaking open; he would not have to wait much longer for his audience with the Duke of Conté. Soon they were fully drawn and a valet popped out to ask Will's name. Will gave it to him.  
  
"I am William of Britannia, Squire to Sir Gareth the Younger."  
  
The manservant nodded gravely and withdrew, letting Will pass. Will took a deep breath, it was time to go. And so he went, into the lion's den.

* * *

Ahh, I see we have made it to the end of the chapter. So remember now, kids, REVIEW! It's only fair, after I went through all this "trouble" to write it. Meh. Thanks for reading at least.  
  
Cheers, while I have a wonderful time in Manitoba.  
  
-Norah 


	9. The Duke of Conté

**Title: And One Go Alone Author: Norah-hunt**

Summary: After the last great rising, it is not Merriman that is destined to go alone. High magic has other plans for Will Stanton, last of the Old Ones. And it is the will of the gods which Will is transported into the world of Tortall, in which Alanna of Trebond masquerades as a boy, and Roger the Duke of Conte plots to overthrow the throne. Yes, the Dark has been banished from our world, but it small wings still have some control and power in the distant places of the universe, outside of our time. It's a Dark Is Rising/Song Of The Lioness Crossover, so please humour me and read it. :p

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own Will or Alanna or any other characters, places, ideas and concepts mentioned in this story.

**Kamorie**: Ahhh, blushes thanks, I'll try to keep up my work, and I hope you like this chapter too! I'm glad you think I'm describing the characters well. Btw, I think you were the first reviewer for this chappie!

**Insanechildfanfic:** In a word -- thanks.

**Memet**: hey memet, not much to say, seeing as you already have read this chapter, o well, thanks for editing it for me again!

**Livie:** hey, I hope you mean such a good chapter, not suck a good chapter.  And wait 'til you see what's revealed in this chapter. Muahahahaha. Anyways, here's the update, although I won't say anything about fast…

**Master Elora Dannan:** Wow, you have no idea what it is to get such a positive review from an author such as yourself! Thanks for reviewing and I hope you like this chapter as much as the last. O, and I have read the Immortals but not Protector of the Small. I liked the Immortals, but I think the Alanna ones are my favourite, hence this fic being set during Alanna's time at the palace.

**The God of Thunder:** here's the update, although I won't say anything about it being soon.

**Infinity Breaks:** Hey, I'm glad that you love this. I think I read your fic, but if not prod me into motion with another review or email and I'll be sure to then. Good like with writing your own fic, and I'm sure you'll be a great author. Actually, I'm sure you are a great author. Keep up your good work!

**Sorrowful Wind-Whisperer:** I'm glad you like it so far, although, if there is going to be romance, it'll be later in the story. After all, right now they are only 15, Will and Alanna, and I'm a sucker for J/A. So unless its J/A I'm not sure who Will would romance. Well we'll see what happens and in the mean time, I hope you like this chapter!

**YamiHikariSakura:** Wow, I hope I spelled your name right. If not, sorry. Anyways, thanks, it always does an author good to here that they write well. And here's your update. I hope so as well that I finish this fic.

**Eldrice:** Yup, I'm back all right and I had a marvellous time! Anyways, you can all breath easily 'cause here's the next chapter. I hope you like it!

**Lady Shang:** Thanks! Here's the next chapter, I hope your opinion of my fic stays the same!

**A/N:** Hey, I know it took a million years for me to update, but I am still writing. This chapter is proof of that! Anyways, I hope that you guys still like this fic and that this chapter doesn't change your opinion. My deepest apologies for those I didn't give a reply to their review.

Enjoy!

Duke Roger of Conté was not a patient man. Being a powerful sorcerer, there were few that would make Duke Roger wait and today, this short delay especially irked him. We will say, on Duke Roger's behalf, that it was a day of extreme heat and he was feeling it – a richly embroidered velvet tunic did not help to cool him or his temper. It was also a day of; there was the matter of this new squire, a William of Britannia to attend to. He couldn't explain it, but Roger had felt a subtle but powerful urge to see the boy. It irked him that a boy of no consequence should keep him waiting like a common servant.

Duke Roger paced anxiously around his room, tracing its perimeter like a lion caged, looking for a way to escape. But there was no escape; he had called the boy and therefore must give him his audience. Abruptly he stopped, having caught his servant staring at him with curiosity. Duke Roger took a couple breaths to calm himself. He must be composed and reserved when the squire arrived. With one last breath, the Duke made his way to his desk at the far end of the room. Duke Roger's chambers were lavishly decorated – his status as a great sorcerer and cousin of the king, allowed expensive tastes could be satisfied.

And as Roger sat, he thought of his plans to take over Tortall. For the next few years, he would be a busy man. There was a king, queen and prince to murder, an assassination of Alan of Trebond to orchestrate; and all these deaths had to look natural. Duke Roger found himself rather uneasy at the thought of Alan of Trebond. The boy was clever and the Duke was sure that he suspected him. There was also the matter of how the boy and Prince Jonathon. For not only did they survive their adventure in Persolpolis but also defeated the Ysandir, demons of the Black City. With Alan by his side, Duke Roger would never be able to kill Prince Jonathon.

And what of William of Britannia? Events have changed with the squire's arrival. The air had new tang to it and texture and his magic had developed a strange new way of reacting. It all added up to one thing – William of Britannia was not a normal squire and he was sent here for a reason. But it was this purpose, which mystified the Duke.

The boy was also quickly becoming close with Alan and his circle of friends. It was possible that young Squire William could also share Squire Alan's suspicions. Two boys like that would make a formidable opponent. But no matter, he would have the throne. He needed it for reasons not entirely personal. But now was not the time for such thoughts, for now he must remain calm until the boy arrived.

A loud voice jerked Roger from his thoughts.

"4:30, your grace, on the dot. Shall I see if Squire William has arrived yet?"

Duke Roger, still occupied with his musing gave a distracted wave of his hand and said, "Yes, yes. See if the boy's there. And if he isn't, call a servant and have them fetch him. I want to be waiting no longer than ten minutes more. Do you understand?"

He gave his lackey a fierce stare.

"As you wish, your grace," the lackey said meekly.

Quietly so as not to disturb his master more, the manservant opened the door a slight bit. He breathed a sigh of relief – the squire was there. Carefully, Duke Roger's personal valet opened the great doors fully.

Popping out into the hallway, the lackey saw a young boy of about fifteen years. He had strait brown hair that flopped slightly down over his eyes, but despite that, the orbs of the boy's eyes contained knowledge and wisdom much beyond his years.

"Excuse me, sir," said the valet, "But I could I trouble you for your name?"

"I am William of Britannia, Squire to Sir Gareth the Younger."

The boy seemed to say these words as if they were a support, something to hold onto and steady himself – the deep breath before the plunge.

The Duke's personal manservant nodded and moved aside, clearing the way for Will, grateful that Will had come for the duke had wished for a private audience. It was a rare time that the valet was not attending to his master's wishes and he relished this opportunity. He waited only for the squire to pass through the doors into his master chamber before he headed down towards the kitchens at an admirable speed.

Will nodded at the valet and stepped through the elaborate threshold into Duke Roger's rooms and for the first time, Will saw the Duke Roger of Conté. It was a sight that took his breath away and jerked him back to a snowy lane on Midwinter's day so many years ago. The familiar ginger hair glinted in the light set off by surrounding lamps; its soft strands framing a cold face that did not fit in with the warm palate of his tunic. The eyes were a steely blue, filled with malice as they caught sight of Will. But the young Old One saw something else in them, very faint, but very much there; it was apprehension – of who he was and his purpose here.

It seemed to Will that they stared at each other for an eternity, eyeing the other one warily. He had found the Dark at last.

It was Duke Roger who shattered their stunned silence.

"Hello, Will Stanton," his voice drawled out in Old Speech, accented as a foreigner might speak another tongue.

"It is… most interesting to see you here, so soon after our last meeting."

The Duke Roger's voice cool and calm, betraying none of his emotions.

"As it is to see you here, Black Rider." Will's voice was cold, dripping with contempt. He was no longer Squire William, but the ruthless creature of the Light. All the years that separated the Duke and Will seemed to disintegrate as their masquerades fell away, leaving only an ageless Old One and an evil Dark Lord.

"It seems I have found the agent of the Dark, planted so cunningly in the royal Palace."

"Yes, indeed," said the Rider, "I don't suppose I shall need to test you for the Gift,"

Will gave a small smile, "No, you will not,"

"Yes," said the Dark Lord, "Your squire friend Alan shall be relieved when he sees you out of this room. Do you not know he fears me?"

Will looked at the Rider stonily, but did not reply.

Like the Black Rider, Will hid his emotions well. Inside, he was a whirl of calculations, sizing up his opponent for what he was. The Black Rider was most certainly a dangerous enemy, one of the great Lords of the Dark. And he was in a powerful position, but no agent of the Dark was aware of the existence of Míríel, the sword of the Light. It was this knowledge that would give the Watchman an advantage where the Dark assumed he had none.

The Dark Lord chuckled dryly, a chilling sound lacking any mirth.

"Oh you foolish boy," he said, his accent very pronounced, "You act as if you may defeat us. We have suffered banishment from one world yes, but here…. here is where we will rule.

You may have cut the blossom from the Midsummer tree before us, but here, you are alone – you have no pathetic signs to hang around your belt, no golden harp or crystal sword. You don't even have a grail or prophesy to guide you. You, Old One, are out of your element and there are none of our petty Things of Power to aid you this time."

"Oh, but you are wrong, my lord," Will said softly, "We will stop you as we did before."

At this the Black Rider threw back his head and cackled evilly, scorn oozing from his laughs. He managed to stop his chuckles long enough to choke out:

"We shall see, Old One, we shall see."

Will did not share his amusement; he sensed hatred under the gurgling laughter of the Black Rider. It was a hatred of the Light and what it stood for and a hatred for how it had banished him.

"Without your master, Will Stanton, you shall stumble and fall, clearing a passage for the Dark to climb through. For who can stand up against the full malice of the Dark? A lone Old One cannot hope to succeed."

"For you see, Will Stanton, the Dark is rising!"

His voice rose suddenly, growing louder and louder until it howled up, creating echoes, which bounced off the walls. The unearthly voice was saturated with dark magic.

Panting slightly, the Rider looked up at the Watchman to see what affect his words had on him. To his surprise, he was not rewarded with any reaction other than a detached look of bemusement.

"As you say, my lord," Will kept his voice mild and expressionless, but charged his next words with all the determination and steel he possessed.

"But I cannot promise you that what you say will come to pass. The future is a precarious thing and as I am an Old One of the Light, it is my duty and pleasure to do everything in my power to stop you and the Dark. So, my lord, we shall see who wins the battle for Tortall."

"Until we meet again, my lord,"

And with that, Will Stanton, the boy of the Light masquerading as a squire, turned his back on the Dark Lord with a shallow bow and turned towards the door. His hand on golden handle, Will paused at the doorway, looking over his shoulder at an angry Lord of the Dark.

"Oh, and don't forget, my lord Rider, the Dark is not the only rising power."

Alanna stomped her foot done with a frustrated hiss, then cursed savagely as her toe came crashing down on the stone floor of the Palace.

Where on earth was Will?

Well, wherever he was, he obviously wasn't here.

Alanna sighed and bent down to rub her stubbed foot. She, along with the help of Raoul and Jon, had been looking for Will for almost an hour, and they still hadn't found a trace of the errant squire. They had been through the entire palace at least twice, but their search yielded nothing but stares from passer-bys.

_He probably found his own way to Duke Roger's and is back in his room wondering where we are_, Alanna thought to herself.

Distantly, Alanna heard the bells chime announcing that there was a half an hour before supper. If Alanna and her friends didn't find Will soon, they would have to abandon their search. Being a squire, Alanna would be on serving duty – no matter what her excuse Gary's father, Duke Gareth, would not be pleased if she were late.

It could be, after all, that Will had found Duke Roger and that she was just over reacting, jumping to conclusions caused by her suspicions. And besides, Alanna told herself, I don't even have any real proof for those either.

Alanna sighed and looked around her. By now, her and her friend's search had carried them almost back to her quarters. Raoul and Jon were looking up ahead, while she opened any unlocked doors to see if Will was inside. Not that he ever was. And it was in one such room that Alanna found her search disrupted.

The door was wooden and plain as of any other door along the long passageway, and gave no reason to think there was anything strange about it. But, when Alanna opened that door to peer inside, she received a dreadful scare.

The handle creaked as she turned it, revealing a dark and shaded interior.

"Hello?" she called out into the darkness, "Will, are you in there?"

Having done this countless of times that afternoon, Alanna didn't really expect an answer, but when a great ball of black fur came hurtling at her, she stumbled back with a startled yelp.

"What the…?" she managed to croak out as she toppled over backwards, tripping over her own feet. The breath was knocked out of her as Alanna hit the ground hard. She spent the next few moment desperately gasping for air, chest heaving. When Alanna finally got her breath back, the hurried footsteps of what must be Raoul and Jon could be heard. The steadily got closer until at last they slowed to a stop.

"What happened," Jon panted out, "We heard you scream."

Alanna, from her position on the floor began to feel a little embarrassed,

"I – I don't know, Jon. I opened the door and this thing came jumping out at me. I'm not sure what it was, but it sure scared me. I'm ok now and I don't need help up."

She gave Raoul a glare as her big friend bent down to pick her up. Raoul chuckled at his fiery friend. Raoul, long used to his friend's dislikes of being "babied," took no offence from Alanna's rather abrupt refusal of help.

"As ye say, Alan."

Quickly, Alanna hauled herself to her feet, and as the young squire did so, a familiar meow made Alanna whirl around.

"You!" she raged, turning to see the small black form of her cat Faithful.

"That was you in that room there! Why'd you go and scare me like that?"

Faithful let out an amused meow and trundled up to rub against her legs,

"Because, you were there and if I hadn't come out you would be still looking in all those rooms for Will. Your wasting your time, he'd gone back to his chamber and is preparing for dinner, like you should be."

Alanna grunted and glared at her cat.

"You might have found me earlier, and yes I know when supper is, thank you very much."

Alanna's rather famous short temper began to force its way through, making her irritable.

"Anyways," she continued, "where have you been? I haven't seen you since just after lessons ended."

Faithful purred and turned his head up to look at Alanna. His large purple eyes blinked as he said:

"O, I've been up and about. A cat must find something to do while his master sleeps."

Alanna rolled her eyes, her annoyance and surprise deserting her. Quickly, she checked herself, noting the ways Raoul and Jon were looking at her. Alanna felt a slight blush creep across her cheeks.

"Come on," she said aloud, speaking to Faithful, Jon and Raoul, "The banquet will start very soon, we must get washed up or be late."

And with that, the three hurried down the hall to the quarters where knights slept.

Dinner was quite different than usual. Since it was the summer, many of the court nobles had returned to their own estates for the season. Only a few guests remained at the Palace, but for most of the three other seasons, dinner was a festival occasion every night. Nonetheless, Alanna found herself busy that evening waiting on her friend Sir Myles and another lord newly arrived at court. It was because of this that Alanna did not even catch a glimpse of Will until half way through the meal.

Will was serving the nobles at the other end of the dining hall than she was, and Alanna didn't even get a chance to catch his attention. Like herself, Will was preoccupied with the nobles he was assigned to. And so the evening wore on with all the pages and squires keeping busy until the meal ended.

As the meal was finishing up, Alanna noticed something very peculiar happen. The doors to the kitchen are situated relatively near to the royal table, so that they may be kept waiting for as little time as possible before they receive their meal. And Alanna, who was returning from the kitchen with another jug of wine at the request of Sir Myles, noticed the King's personal valet walk up quietly to his majesty and tap him lightly on the shoulder. At first the king seemed surprised at being disturbed, he was after all engaged in a most interesting discussion with Duke Gareth, but when he saw who interrupted him, his mask of slight annoyance turned to one of rapt attention. Alanna saw the valet lean forward and whisper something in King Raold's ear. Duke Gareth looked on with interest, although no one else at the feast seemed to notice this momentary interruption. Alanna watched all this with curiously and returned with her jug of wine looking rather thoughtful.

The valet had certainly been carrying an important message, but what had it been?

After almost an hour since the valet's arrival, King Raold announced the conclusion of the feast, saying that he hoped they had enjoyed the fine food and suggested that the nobles return to their quarters. Alanna, watching the king carefully, noted that after his short speech he leaned over to his closest friends and allies, asking them, no doubt, to attend him in his quarters. As the rest of the crowd filed out of the grand doors at one end of the room, King Roald, Prince Jonathon, the Lord Provost, Duke Gareth and to Alanna's dismay, Duke Roger, left through a small door by the head of the table.

She also wondered what on earth they would be talking about, but Alanna reigned in her curiosity and went to find Will. Alanna was sure she would find out up took place between the king and his advisors in due time. Alanna sighed; Jon would not be back until late tonight, she was sure of that now.

Will left the quarters of Duke Roger feeling extremely agitated; after all, what had supposed to be a simple interview to see if he had the Gift had turned out to be a confrontation between two agents of the Light and Dark. Now that Will thought about it, he wondered why he hadn't suspected the Duke earlier. He would have been the ideal choice as the agent of the Dark. After all, he was cousin to the crown prince and above almost all suspicion. He had plenty of room in which he could work as well as power and money to support his evil schemes. Will on the other hand, was only a squire, new at the Palace and whose opinion would have very little affect on court. Although Will didn't like to admit it the Black Rider was right; the Dark did have the upper hand here.

Absently, Will began the long walk to his chambers, his mind still dwelling on his recent incident with the Dark. Will reached into his pocket to find his digital watch, but made sure to give a quick look around him, in case anyone was watching. He needn't have since the corridor in which he walked was deserted. The watch read 4:45 pm. His meeting with Duke Roger had only taken 15 minutes, but it had seemed to last more than a lifetime.

Quickly, Will stowed away his digital watched and continued his journey to his room. Alan would probably be looking for him, Will thought, although he was not unduly worried. Before Faithful left him at the threshold of Duke Roger's office, he had told him that he would find Alan and stop his search.

In the mean time all Will wanted was to get to his chambers and rest before it was time for dinner. And even at dinner he would get no rest since all the pages and squires had to wait on the noble lords and ladies at court before they had their own supper. Will sighed and turned down the hallway that led to his chambers. Upon finding his door, Will opened and sank onto his bed. After his duel with Alan, his especially hard studies and his unexpected discover of the Dark Lord, the Old One was grateful for a place to just rest and relax.

Lying on his bed peacefully, Will let his thoughts wander. Will found himself thinking of home and wondering what Bran and the Drews were doing. Had he simply faded from their memories like Merriman, or were they worried at his sudden disappearance? Will sighed and turned over onto his side, fighting off a wave of homesickness.

Being homesick won't help anything, the Old One told himself, the only way your going home is if the Dark is banished, and even then the future is uncertain. It's best to think only of the matters on hand, that you can do something about. So smarten up Will, the boy muttered to himself.

So instead of the world he left behind, Will forced himself to think of George and his band of Rogue. Will hadn't seen George since he had walked the Old One to the Palace on his first day here. He hoped the thief was all right, and had not gotten into any trouble. Although, Will remembered with a smile, how he had met the thief. No, Will reassured himself, the police wouldn't have caught George; he's a smart man, and he knows when prudence is best.

Will was jerked from his musings by the dim sound of a bell, tolling faintly. Sitting up, Will cocked his head trying to catch the source of the sudden noise. Ahh yes, he recognized it now. It was the bell that announced that dinner would commence in half an hour.

Will gave a huge yawn and hoisted himself up from his rather comfortable position on his small bed. It was time to start getting ready for the banquet. Will sighed tiredly as he looked himself over in the mirror; his hair stuck up in many places and his tunic was rumpled.

Will turned away from his mirror and began to change. He grimaced and looked down at his chest. Deep purple bruises blossomed across his torso – it was the price of his sparring match with Alan. Will resolved to perform a healing spell, to ease the pain and speed his recovery. After all, it wouldn't help him to be hindered on his quest by wounds easily healed.

Taking a deep breath Will let his muscles go limp. Standing stock still, the Old One closed his eyes and with each breath focused on relaxing one muscle, then another. Soon, Will's body was completely relaxed; his breath evened out, making him the picture of peace. And slowly, with each breath that he let out, Will began to speak.

His voice was soft, and filled with the magic of the Old Ones.

"Healen, Aem Una." _Heal, Old One._

He breathed in,

"Acciptio onte montre dente hecantiana." _Here my words of magic._

Will breathed in, giving himself up to the healing spell.

"Esse pacalis, tes clade sont healen" Be_ at peace, your wounds have healed._

Will's breath came out softly, his words whispered as he did so.

The Old One opened his eyes and looked again at his chest. The gross bruises that had covered it had now disappeared, leaving smooth and unmarked skin.

_That's more like it,_ Will thought, _now, its time to get ready for dinner tonight._

Will crossed over to where he kept his clothes. It was a chest that was engraved in the whirling patterns of the Old Ones and the symbol of the Light where a lock should have been. Will brushed his fingers against the circle quartered by a cross and felt the trunk unlock itself. He then pulled out a tunic and hose that were similar to the ones he wore, but of finer quality. Quickly, Will slipped on these clothes and went back over to the mirror; his hair was still a mess. Will wet his fingers with a bit of water from a bowl he found near the mirror. Then, using his fingers he tried to flatten down his mass of brown hair.

It was this task that took the Old One the most time. Every time he thought the job finished, a rebellious piece of hair would poke up from somewhere on the side of his head. Even when the bell announced dinner, Will was till trying in vain to get his hair to lie flat. Sighing, Will gave up and ran out the door. At least he wouldn't be late for dinner.

All throughout the banquet, Will found himself extremely busy. As a squire, he had the task of serving dishes to many nobles. Since he had only been at the Palace for a week, Duke Gareth had not yet permanently assigned him to a noble. For now, he was to keep the glass of every noble full and fetch anything that was desired. Consequently, Will was so busy that he didn't even get a chance to look for Alan, let alone talk to him.

At last dinner had ended. Gratefully, Will trudged out of the dining hall in search of Alan and his dinner. The former was not hard to find, it seemed Alan had been waiting for him to leave the banquet hall.

"Hey, Will!" he called, having towards the other squire.

"Hey, Alan," Will called back, "how was serving duty?"

A brief shadow crossed over Alan's face, but it cleared quickly. Will wondered at this.

"O nothing really, Sir Myles had a bit too much to drink this evening."

"I warrant that he has a bit too much _every _evening," Will said with a laugh. Alan smiled too, but did not laugh.

"So, Will, how was your interview with Duke Roger? I mean, how did you even find him, and why didn't wait for me?"

Alanna kept her vice casual, but Will sensed how important his answer was to this question. Will chose his words carefully; the secrecy of his quest might depend on his answer. No matter what he told Alan, Will was sure, it would have to be a lie.

"Well," the Old One began, "After lessons, I went back to my quarters and then when it was time to meet you, I went to your room and I found you asleep."

Will look at his fellow squire apologetically as they walked along the hall that would lead them to their own dinner.

"I'm sorry I didn't wake you," continued the Watchman, "but I figured you needed the sleep – after lessons today, you looked pretty tired. So after that, I started to look for his rooms. Luckily, I found a servant who was able to direct me."

Mentally, Will excused his lie by telling himself that Faithful _was_ a servant, in a way. After all, he was put in Tortall to serve and befriend Alan.

"Then when I got there, Duke Roger just asked me some questions regarding magic and stuff." That was true at least; the Light and Dark were certainly magical.

"So did Duke Roger say whether you have the Gift or not?" asked Alanna, relieved that nothing abnormal happened to Will during his meeting with the Duke.

"Yes, actually he did," answered Will, "I don't have the Gift, although I don't know why they bothered to test me at all. I have told Duke Gareth that I do not have the Gift. Anyways, then I just returned to my room."

Alanna laughed, saying as she did so "And I had Raoul and Jon out looking for you! You certainly weren't lost somewhere in the Palace!"

Will laughed too, "You might have saved yourself the effort."

Will sniffed and sighed gratefully. They had reached the page and squire dining all. Pushing through the throngs of pages, Alanna and Will found themselves a place to sit.

"I don't know about you," said Will, "but I'm starved. Mmmm. Dinner smells great!"

And so the two squires sat, eating their dinner. Both had a lot to think over: Will, his recent encounter with the Black Rider, and Alanna, that mysterious messenger that had so interested the King.

Hey! Hoped you liked it! This was chapter 8, and I know it was very slow getting it out, but doesn't it make all the more rewarding that it's finally out? Anyways, enough rambling. Hoped you liked it and as always….

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Cheers,

-Norah


	10. The Cellar

**Title: And One Go Alone Author: Norah-hunt**

**Summary:** After the last great rising, it is not Merriman that is destined to go alone. High magic has other plans for Will Stanton, last of the Old Ones. And it is the will of the gods which Will is transported into the world of Tortall, in which Alanna of Trebond masquerades as a boy, and Roger the Duke of Conte plots to overthrow the throne. Yes, the Dark has been banished from our world, but it small wings still have some control and power in the distant places of the universe, outside of our time. It's a Dark Is Rising/Song Of The Lioness Crossover, so please humour me and read it. :p

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own Will or Alanna or any other characters, places, ideas and concepts mentioned in this story.

Ummm… grins nervously hi guys, I get the feeling that you aren't going to be too, too please with um. My hiatus? So after like an almost 5 month delay, here's the next chapter. To help you sorta remember what's going on, I decided to write a little synopsis, summing up what's happened so far. The next chapter will be hopefully out as a Christmas present. So here goes. after it I'll have replies to reviews.

Summary:

One week after Will Stanton, last of the Old Ones has arrived at the Palace, Duke Gareth asks him to go speak with Duke Roger. Before going to his meeting, Will has a chat with Faithful in a clearing, in the Royal Forest. Alanna sees this meeting in a dream, but does not exactly remember what has transpired. Later, Will goes and has his meeting with Duke Roger. He then finds out that it is indeed the Duke who is the agent of the Dark. After the meeting, Alanna and Will are serving at banquet. Alanna sees a messenger whisper in King Roald's ear and immediately after that, the King calls his closest lords to him, dismissing everyone else.

Replies to Reviews:

**Hillyhp2590:** Um. Well I won't say anything about posting soon… but at last I kicked my butt into gear! I do have some excuses though; my hard drive died when I began to write the new chapter earlier, so I lost all my info. Also, high school has been really busy! O well. I hope the summary has helped you a bit to remember what this fic is actually about :P

**Kamorie:** heh. Well read the above reply to hear my excuses. I'm glad I've helped you remember the stories! They're wonderful tales. Anyways, yah, you're right! Lol. My friend read the first chapter and was totally lost; he hadn't read DIRS or the Alanna books. Anyway, I hope you still like this fic, even though it has take me forever to post again.

**Eldrice:** Beams Awww, it makes me feel so speacial that I convinced you to buy the Alanna box set. They are really good stories. And I have to agree with you, I think "And don't forget, my lord, the Dark is not the rising power." Is also my fav line. I love tough Will too. :D

**Freakychic:** Well. Hey. Thanks for reviewing, I hope you like the nest chapter!

**Elijah D.R.:** Lol. I think I shall dub you my most faithful of reviewers. What to say? How many reviews did you post? 6? Lol. "Devoted Fan Forever." I think you should leave your email, so I can tell you when I'm updating, and perhaps send you the chapter so you can read it first well almost, memet gets to read it first, being the brilliant beta and friend that she is. And as to your question about how I made the Old Speech, I used my handy dandy imagination and the Internet and mixed French, Latin and my just thinking of words to compose the spell. Anyways, this is the chapter you've been waiting so patiently for, if you haven't already forgotten about this fic. :P Anyways, I hope that it won't be too long before chapter 11 is put up, seeing as I know what I want to happen in it. Cheers!

**Infinity Breaks:** Wow. That's a lot of updates I'm surprised you took the time to write all of them! And here's my update. Wow! 3 reviews! I'm touched…

**Sharly:** Yay! New reviewer, I like new reviewers! Here's the chapter! Enjoy I hope.

**Insanechildfanfic:** In a word – thanks.

King Roald bit his lip and looked worriedly around his vast council room. His lords, Duke Roger, Duke Gareth, LordProvostandthePrinceJonathon had not arrived yet. It would not be easy to say what had to be said. He sighed, raising his eyes to the Gods in an imploring gesture. Quickly he glanced back down at the floor, disgust welling inside him.

Nothing's _ever_ easy. And you, sir, will get yourself nowhere by feeling sorry for yourself -- self-pity is weakness. Tortall is your first priorityyou must be strong and confident leader.

King Roald looked up as he heard the familiar squeak of hinges unoiled. His lords have arrived. They each filed in--silent and unsure of what to expect. Well most of them, that is, King Roald noted. Duke Roger held the most peculiar expression on his face. He looked almost pleased with himself, as if he held some knowledge that the rest of them did not.

King Roald wasted no time on formal introductions.

"Sit," he stated curtly, "This is a council of the utmost seriousness and urgency."

The king gave them a moment to obey before continuing. His commands were executed with the utmost efficiency, but not without a few alarmed glances. Still no one other than the king had spoken.

"I have received word that we are under threat of invasion from our neighbour, Tusaine. The area most vulnerable to their attack is the Drell River Valley, on our eastern boarder." Roald managed to spit out through clenched teeth.

Still no response. Jaws tightened and eyes narrowed, but no one dared venture a word. They would wait until their liege lord had finished. Duke Roger leaned back into his chair, his face twisted into a triumphant smirk. King Roald frowned slightly at his nephew's response but chose to ignore it.

"The Drell River Valley has long been a subject of dispute between our two nations. But recently, Tusainian scouts have been spotted near Fort Drell. If we don't act immediately, we may lose the valley." He paused looking at his lords. No response.

Roald took a deep breath and plunged once more into his terrible narration of the messenger's news.

"Our first actions will be to try and negotiate with the Tusaine noblemen. As we speak, my lords, a messenger has been despatched, bearing a request for the presence of their Ambassador, Mikal of Danne. War must be avoided at all costs. I am the Peacemaker, and I will keep that title -- whatever the consequence."

His speech finished, King Roald let out a long hiss of breath. He felt much better now that he had shared his awful news. His jaw relaxed and the king looked at his son, Prince Jonathon, wondering how he was reacting.

As it was, Jonathon was the first to break the silence.

"When may we expect the Tusaine embassy?" His voice was level and face emotionless, but beneath the cool façade, he was a torrent of questions and emotions.

"Once the Tusaine government has received our request, two weeks at most. We must work quickly to prepare the Palace. Travelling at their current speed, I estimate that it will take the messenger two days to reach the Tusaine's capital. In that time, we will prepare for their arrival. Tortall must not look weak; it will only fuel the Tusainians' greed."

"Two weeks is not much time," said the Lord Provost, "Preparations will have to begin immediately if we are to be ready."

"Tomorrow we shall meet again," King Roald pronounced gravely, "And we shall have a more extensive council, with the head palace gardener and curator. We will then organize decorations for the numerous balls and dinners."

Duke Gareth spoke up, "How long may we expect the embassy to stay here, your majesty?"

"As long as it takes, your grace," came the reply, "When they leave, we will either be at war, or have their blessing. Let us hope it is the latter."

Everyone nodded in agreement.

"Duke Roger," said the king, "Have you anything to say on this matter? You have been silent throughout this entire council."

Duke Roger looked up, and flashed his unclea dazzling smile. "Your majesty," he began, "I think you are acting in a most according manner. We must try and retain our friendly relations with Tusaine. But, we must not rely totally on the success of this diplomatic mission. I suggest that we begin to send out warnings to all the fiefs. That way, if things do go wrong, Tortall will be ready to receive the call to muster."

King Roald nodded in grim agreement, "You're right of course." He turned to his other lords, saying as he did so, "It is late and time for sleep. Go back your chambers and I will see you hear after morning breakfast. Until we have finished our meeting tomorrow, not a word of what has been said here may be repeated. Good night, my lords."

Alanna could not believe that it had been a week since she had first seen the messenger whisper in King Roald's ear. She snorted, thinking Well I got what I wished for, I now know what the messenger said, but the whole Palace knows as well. Laughing cynically, she dipped her hand into a sudsy pail of scalding water and lye.

The palace steps leading to the main training courts still had to be scrubbed -- that was her job. Although Alanna reasoned wryly, it could be worse: she had heard a group of pages being ordered to clean out the privies. They were a hapless lot.

Since that day, the Palace has been a hive of activity; carpenters and masons worked furiously to sculpt new statues for the garden and to repair worn down archways. Everyone was working twice as hard, including the squires and the pages. Alanna couldn't remember a time in the last week in which she'd had ten minutes to herself. In an attempt to help the Palace servants, the Pages and Squires were required to dust, clean, and perform other menial tasks, as well as serve their knight masters and keep up their studies. The added stress was beginning to show on everybody.

Tempers began to wear thin, especially Alanna's, who had a short one to start with. She hated herself when she was like this, but that knowledge only made her more irritable.

Sighing, Alanna slammed her bucket down hard. Water slopped over its rim, drenching her with the warm acidic stuff. The young squire cursed, biting her lip to stop a squeal of frustration. She couldn't wait for the embassy to get to Corus and end this busy hell. A warm voice brought her from her angry thoughts, and made her stomach twist.

"I thought I'd find you here."

Alanna looked up and saw Jon's handsome face staring down at her.

"Jon!" she said, "Where have you been?"

He sighed, "Council meetings. I've been in them all week," then looking her over, he smiled, "Come on, it looks like you need a break too. Let's go find Gary and the others. I'm sure they'll be wondering where you are."

Jonathon reached down and offered his friend a hand. Alanna took it, offering halfhearted protests.

"But Duke Gareth said I had to finish these steps…" Her protests died as Jonathon raised an eyebrow, looking over her work.

"By the looks of things, you're almost done. Duke Gareth won't notice if every corner isn't shining. You need a break, Alan; this last week has been very stressful and it's telling on you. Come and relax for a little bit. You don't _always_ have to be useful."

"I guess your right…" she said, standing up and wringing water from her clothes, "I do need a bit of a break."

The two friends started to walk off towards the Squire's wing, taking care not to step on Alanna's newly scrubbed floor. Suddenly, Alanna stopped, a frown on her face.

"Jonathon," she asked, "Where's Faithful?"

Will yawned and leaned against the smooth surface of a round boulder. He breathed in deeply, taking in the fresh clear scent of the forest air. He enjoyed the clear air; it reminded him a lot of his home in Buckinghamshire. There was no pollution in the air, no smells of too many people jammed into a small space, and most of all no musty odour that accompanies the heavy dusting of various rooms that have probably not seen a broom in fifty years. Will looked around the small clearing he was in; it was almost unchanged from when he had last visited it with Faithful. It had been about a week ago…before Will had found out Duke Roger's true identity. Before the messenger came that evening.

Like the rest of the Palace pages and squires, Will had been working hard to clean the Palace in anticipation of the arrival of the Tusaine diplomatic party. He was, in fact, supposed to be dusting out a particularly old cellar instead of resting outside in the Royal Forest. He smiled as he remembered how he had managed to shirk from that task. It had been simple, for he was, in a sense, still doing that chore, at least to the wandering eye.

Armed with a broom and dustpan, Will had been led to a cellar deep beneath the Palace by an overworked servant. Once the servant had left him, the young Old One first made precautions to make sure no one could see him. Then, spreading his fingers wide, Will whispered the words that would make an illusion of himself. Since there was no one other than Duke Roger, who was attending another council meeting that knew of his talents, there would be no reason for a passer-by to suspect that the dim figure sweeping away in a small cloud of dust was anyone but William of Britannia.

After weaving the image of himself together, Will laced the room with a spell that would make anyone looking for him become uninterested in the task. They would forget why they had come down to such a remote region of the Palace and once again, wander up to where most of the action was happening – in the dining hall and main ballroom.

Satisfied with his work, Will had teleported himself to the clearing. Will peered into the shadows cast by the trees around him, wondering idly where Faithful was. The two agents of the Light had conspired to meet in the clearing again while walking back towards the Palace after their first meeting. They had much to discuss, Will reflected.

A sudden meow made Will jump up from his perch on the large boulder and whirl around.

"Faithful!" he yelped, seeing who it was. "What kept you?" Will settled back down the rock, taking deep breaths to steady himself.

Purple eyes stared up at him. Faithful gracefully leapt up beside Will, answering as he did so.

"Old One, you surprise me. I thought your kind were marked by their patience." His voice drawled out in the dry tone he usually assumed when talking to Will.

Will smiled, "Yes, but I should think it's a lot easier for a cat to sneak out of the Palace than a squire, who is right now supposed to be sweeping out an old cellar."

Faithful's glossy fur shone in the afternoon sun as he answered, "You'd be surprised," he meowed, "Anyways, we have a lot to discuss. Before joining you here, I double-checked the spells that guard this clearing. I thought it best after our last conversation here."

The two supernatural beings both paused, Will thinking of that haunting ripple of music he had heard as he drew back the bushes, and Faithful a peculiar scent that his sensitive nose had just caught before he sensed the eavesdropper.

"I know who the agent of the Dark is," Will said bluntly, "It's Duke Roger."

"Yes," replied the furry creature, "It is as I thought. But Duke Roger is not his real name, I assume."

"No," came the reply, "he is the Black Rider, a Lord of the Dark." Will cast his eyes down, staring at the earthen floor as if trying to memorize every pebble.

"The Black Rider is a powerful enemy," Will continued, his voice was barely audible, "I have fought against him before, but never in such dire circumstances. I fear that my strength alone will not be enough, that he will gain control of this world…" His voice trailed off to nothing.

Faithful looked at his young companion sharply, "You will defeat him, Old One, you must." Faithful paused, and then continued, his voice hardening, "Or everyone will die."

Will looked up, his teeth gritted together. "You're right. I'm sorry about that." He cleared his throat and continued on, "I don't think its coincidence that only two weeks after I arrive, Tortall is under threat of invasion."

"You mean to say that Duke Roger is behind this threat**," **said the cat, "It is possible. It would provide a welcome distraction for the Dark. They might be planning something, a trap of some sort. We will have to be extra careful."

"I shall watch over Alan and Prince Jonathon – nothing must happen to them." He smiled wryly at the cat, "They might end up hating me for it, but it is the only way we can be sure of their safety."

Will frowned and squinted up at the sun, trying to figure out what time it was. Faithful looked at him curiously.

"What are you up to, Will?" purred Faithful.

"Trying to figure out the blasted time. Spell or not, people might get suspicious if it takes me two hours to sweep out a small room. Besides, the image will only last for two and a half hours. And given how long I had to wait for you, I'd say that my time has almost expired." He gave a frustrated grunt, muttering "Oh, to hell with it."

Will reached into his pocket and drew out his digital watch.

In tiny electric numbers, 4:00 pm blinked out at Will. Faithful jumped onto the boy's shoulder and was staring transfixed at the glowing digits.

"Where… Did… You… Get… That…?" he breathed out, his eyes never leaving the watch's shiny face.

"It's from my home world." Explained Will, unsure if he should have shown the cat the watch, supernatural or not, "It's called a watch. It keeps the time. You're supposed to wear it on your wrist, but here, I think it's best not to."

He grinned a little nervously. "I think I should return to the Palace. You should too."

Suddenly the cat looked up, his trance broken.

"Yes," he meowed, his voice crisp and collected, "You're right. I shall take the path and I suppose you will be teleporting?"

Will nodded. "Goodbye, see you later."

Faithful leapt off of Will's shoulder in a burst of energy, disappearing into the leafy shadows with barely a rustle.

Will shook his head in amazement and muttered the spell that would bring him back to the cellar.

"_Ilna peso tesu, a la colar_"

George waited for Alanna in the cool cellars of the Palace. The difficult part was sneaking into the great catacombs, but after the thief lord had made it down there, it was easy to avoid detection. After all, no one ever went down this deep under the Palace. George quickly melted into the shadows as he heard footsteps approach. They echoed along the stone halls and soon George good here voices.

"Jon, what are we doing down here. I thought you wanted to see Gary?" the voice sounded a little annoyed, and George smiled as he recognized it.

"Well I said we'd see Gary _and _the others; that's precisely what we're doing." The other voice was warm and deep – the Prince's.

"So, you're telling me that all of our friends are hanging out, for some unknown reason, down _here?"_

"Well," came the reply, "Not all of them, but at least one person who you'll want to see is here."

As the two owners of the voices came into view, George saw Alanna's fiery head and the sturdy figure of the Tortall's Crown Prince. The thief waited until they had also walked past them before stepping out of his hiding place.

"Afternoon, Alanna," he said quietly with a grin.

"_George!"_ she yelped, turning around and giving him a big hug, "What are you doing here? If anyone finds out…"

She glanced over at Jon, "You knew he was going to come, didn't you?"

"Well, of course," said the Prince, "Why would I take you down here if I didn't have a reason? Gary and Raoul are busy, so it's only Alanna and I today." His last comment was directed to George, who had moved back into the partial shadows.

George nodded, and Alanna asked, "Any news from the Rogue in Tusaine?"

George nodded grimly, "I'm afraid that there is, yes. Contrary to what your King has said, the Tusaine embassy will be arriving much sooner than expected. They had anticipated your father's message, Jon, and already had the party prepared. We may expect the embassy to arrive tomorrow or in the next two days. The Tusaine want war."

Alanna bit her lip and looked at Jon worriedly, "Perhaps at Council tonight, you can mention that they might anticipated our reply, Jon?"

Her friend nodded, his eyes steely. "In fact," he said, "I think I will go talk to him right now. Keep out of trouble, you two."

And with that the Crown Prince of Tortall turned on his heel and left.

George and Alanna watched him go before returning to their conversation.

Will crept silently from the cellar, which was now remarkably clean. He had arrived moments after his image had expired. The Old One hoped no one had seen the slowly fading figure of a boy, busily sweeping away small piles of dust. For that was how the spell ended: the image would disintegrate until nothing was left.

Having returned from his trip to the forest, Will picked up his bucket and began to wind his way up the maze-like halls of the Palace catacombs. He had been walking for ten minutes or so when he first heard the whispering. Instantly the Old One thought of Duke Roger, and what ever evil servants he might have. Will instinctively began to say the spell that would teleport him back to his rooms, but stopped himself just in time. He didn't know what was out there, and even if it _was_ one of the Black Rider's agents, it would be better to know it was there than to be uncertain. Closing his eyes, Will concentrated on using his Old One's senses to see if he was in danger. Slowly his breathing slowed, and his ears opened up, searching for any more noise.

His eye's opened with a snap. There. Up ahead and to his left, that's where the voices were coming from. And with that Will Stanton, youngest of the Old Ones went to investigate just who… _what_ was talking.

Ok, guys, by now I think you know the drill; READ AND REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Cheers, I know this chapter took ages to get put up, but its finally here! and, aren't you lucky, because i have a surprise planned for the next chatper. grins evilly. bye! really truly and be nice, me likes reviews.


	11. The Embassy

**Title: And One Go Alone Author: Norah-hunt**

**Summary:** After the last great rising, it is not Merriman that is destined to go alone. High magic has other plans for Will Stanton, last of the Old Ones. And it is the will of the gods which Will is transported into the world of Tortall, in which Alanna of Trebond masquerades as a boy, and Roger the Duke of Conte plots to overthrow the throne. Yes, the Dark has been banished from our world, but it small wings still have some control and power in the distant places of the universe, outside of our time. It's a Dark Is Rising/Song Of The Lioness Crossover, so please humour me and read it. :p

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own Will or Alanna or any other characters, places, ideas and concepts mentioned in this story.

Well, I've had this sitting on my hard drive for a long, long, long time and I decided it to post it. This might be the last chapter I ever write for this fic… I'm sorry, but this fic is either on a long hiatus or been abandoned. If I get the urge to write, I most certainly will, but. Well. Perhaps I might be goaded into writing more (cough Elijah DR).

Thanks, I hope there are still people out there that will read and review!

As Will crept closer, flickering lights exposed two figures ahead. Further inspection revealed them both male: one of about average height, and the other very short. And both had very familiar voices . . . but their words were lost to him. A mere ten feet away, Will melted into the shadows of the dim Palace corridor. Safely hidden, the Old One placed his broom and pail on the ground and willed himself to be able to hear what the two people ahead were saying. Slowly their voices rang clear in his head and Will slipped easily into their conversation.

"If things go badly with the Tusaine Embassy, you know it will be war," said the taller person worriedly.

"Of course I know, George," said the other, "and you don't need to worry about me; I'll be fine."

Will now knew who the two people were: George and Alan. But how did Alan meet and become friends with the thief?

Will frowned.

"Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I can't defend myself." Alan said, his voice sounding annoyed, " You of all people should know that! I have enough on my plate without having to deal with you worrying about me."

From his hidden place, Will felt his jaw slacken in pure shock. _What the…_ He shook his head, trying to register what he'd just heard. Alan…a…was…a…_girl?_ Unwillingly, he stumbled back, knocking over the wooden pail that he placed behind him. It clattered loudly on the stone floor. Alan, or whoever she was, and George immediately froze.

_Blast!_ Thought the Old One, cursing his stupidity.

The two figures crept forward, peering into the shadows to see who had made the sudden sound.

Will said the first spell that came to his mind, and immediately shot up silently towards the ceiling. The spell made him weightless and his fingers sticky. It was a very useful spell that the Old One has often cast for tasks such as scaling walls. It has also served him well when had climbed high up into the various trees around his old house in Buckinghamshire. But it was for very different reasons that Will used these spells as he clung to the cool stone ceiling, hoping that Alan or George wouldn't look up. If they caught him, he'd have to use his magic to erase their memories – and that wasn't something he wanted to do.

Below him, Alan and George had found the bucket and broom.

"Well, here's what made the noise, but why is it here and _who_ knocked it over?" That was Alan speaking, "I hope no one overheard us…"

His…_her_ voice trailed off. Both the squire and the thief knew what would happen if someone found out her secret. Will gulped, suddenly feeling guilty for having listened in on their conversation. With all the stress Alan was under for preparing the embassy, he… _she _certainly didn't need the added worry that someone might betray her secret. He wanted to get away as fast as he could. The Old One crawled across the ceiling, into the deeper shadows to where he could safely teleport back to his rooms. The short feet it took to crawl across seemed to be miles: Will's entire concentration wasn't bent on getting there.

When he finally reached them, the young squire suppressed a sigh of relief and reminded himself that he wasn't safe until he had teleported back to his rooms. Quickly Will thought the words and was whisked back to his small, but cozy quarters.

The next two days passed as a blur for Will. It was a flurry of preparations for the coming Tusaine Embassy. And if it were possible, the Palace staff and squires had been working thrice as hard since Jonathon's tidings to King Roald. Since Will had not been at the Palace for more than two weeks, Will had nothing to compare the Palace too, but he heard others say that they hadn't seen it looking so well in years.

Every statue had been reworked until they surpassed their original splendour, and Alan's steps remained surprisingly clean. Everyone knew that if they dirtied the Palace, they would have the added task of cleaning up their mess. The gardens also boasted beautiful beds of brightly coloured flowers, spreading their petals in full bloom. Not a blade of grass was out of place and the many hedge sculptures had been pruned to perfection. An air of expectation hovered over the Palace, and had begun to creep into the city.

Venders and merchants dusted out their shops and put their finest goods on display, hoping to catch the eye of a rich nobleman.

The head curator of the Palace was merciless: if he caught any young maid or servant looking idle, he'd put them to work running errands or mopping up a hallway before they had a chance to protest. So everyone kept busy, or at least the pretence that they were busy.

It was during early evening of the second day that the long-expected embassy finally arrived. They came with all the pomp and grandeur that a party of their size and importance might warrant. Proud knights and nobles sat upon beautiful mounts, while banners blew high above the crowd of their milling servants. At the very front of the rather long column was the Tusaine Ambassador, Mikal of Danne. He was dressed lavishly, in rich silks and wondrous colours.

Once the party had been sighted, it had taken them another three hours before they were finally at the Palace gates; the going was very slow. It was there that Will and Alanna awaited their guests. As their knight-masters were both members of the royal family, their squires were required to be a part of the welcoming party that would greet the Tusaine party. Later, during the countless festivities that would take place between the negotiations, the two squires would serve drinks and run errands.

After the long formal greetings were finished, Mikal and his nobles were offered refreshment in the Great Hall to help them recover from such a long tiring journey. The offer was graciously accepted, with, in Will's opinion, much too long and silly formal words. A simple 'yes' would have sufficed, thought the Old One. Will also thought it a bit ironic that they would be treating the Tusaines in such a grand fashion when in less than a month they might be killing one another.

Meanwhile, the servants of the embassy would take their masters' belongings to their specified quarters. The Palace hostlers would take care of the horses. Will watched the hostlers, not envying their position; he didn't relish the idea of being alone in a stall with an unfamiliar horse. Instead, he followed Jon, Gary, and Alan, along with a bunch of other nobles inside the Palace.

It was a long, slow walk.

The next few days passed as a busy blur of parties, studies, and weapons training for Will. Although the embassy had arrived, the squires were still expected to continue with their regular studies _and _attend as well as serve at parties.

Most of the negotiations were off limits to all of the squires, so Will was not able to see what was happening. It was rumoured that the peace talks were not going well, and it made Will even more uneasy to think of the Black Rider's role in these negotiations. So he kept his ears open and talked often with Faithful – the cat listened to Alanna and Jonathon talk about the meetings. As heir to the throne of Tortall, he attended these long negotiations.

The Old One spent many of a long night contemplating what the Dark would gain by starting a war between the do kingdoms. Why would he wish to put Tortall at risk when it was his main provider of the wealth he needed to plot his evil deeds? The war couldn't kill him – all those of the Light were immortal and the Black Rider knew this. Was the Rider acting on orders from another Dark Lord, or had he decided to act on his own? Did Duke Roger have any thing to do with this potential threat at all, or was it just a matter of coincidence? The possibilities were endless and so far, Will hadn't thought of any plausible reasons for Duke Roger to want this war.

Throughout the delegation's stay at the Palace, contests and rivalries had developed between the various knights of the realms. Challenges were issued as the Tortall and Tusaine knights measured up each other's skill, each with higher stakes than the last. What began as friendly discussions often ended in heated arguments, which had to be broken up quickly before they developed any further.

One stuffy, humid evening, tension was running particularly high. It was a small evening party, and all the courtiers were decked out in their finest gowns. They flirted, laughed, and generally ignored the real reason why the embassy was visiting. It was the task of Will, Alan, and Douglass of Veldine, Raoul's squire, to keep everyone's' glasses full and their ears open. All three set to the task with a will. Alanna was eager to find out more about the nobles from Tusaine, while Will had sensed some of the Dark's agents among the embassy. He kept this to himself, not even telling Faithful – he would take no chances at anyone over hearing something this important. Although, he did not speak of it, he well cloaked himself well, using ancient spells to hide his magic. Unless the Black Rider had informed them of his presence, they would not sense him as One of the Light.

The party seemed to be going well; people ate, danced, and there seemed to be no overly passionate nobles ranting on. Until a loud remark from one young Tusaine knight had the room staring in outraged silence.

Gary, Raoul, Alex, and Jonathon were talking to a group of young Tusaine knights when one particularly arrogant fellow sneered loudly that Tortallan fencing was what they called "dancing." The insult hung heavily in the air as everyone watched how Prince Jonathon would react. But before Jon could say anything, Gary spoke for him.

"You are rude in the palace of your host," the big knight said carefully, his shoulders tensed in suppressed anger.

"I wish it were possible to teach you some manners."

At these words, every knight in the room, both Tortallan and Tusainian, had slowly moved their hands so that they rested on the hilts of their swords. Raoul had even begun shifting into a fighting stance.

The Ambassador Mikal turned to his royal hosts and said,

"I must apologize for young Dain's behaviour. He is headstrong and prone to rash words when he has had too much of the drink."

He bowed low in the direction of King Roald. His gesture was returned with a silent nod, accepting his apology. It looked as if all were to be smoothed over, when Mikal added fuel to the fire, by remarking to no one particular.

"Although, I'm afraid I must agree with young Dain. We in Tusaine seem to have done better in the martial arts. Perhaps peace has dulled your fighting edge?"

Will froze, quietly studying each of his friends quietly. Alan for he had decided to call her that until he knew her real name reached up and touched some pendant around her neck, Raoul gripped his sword with a white-knuckled hand, while his squire, Douglass shoved a wineglass in his hand and spoke some low, frantic words to his master. Gary looked almost as angry – Will decided that if he didn't calm down soon, he would follow Douglass' example. Jon, oddly enough, had an amused look on his face; it was the face he wore when hatching a plan, a plan that would give him the upper hand over any opponent.

"I disagree with you, Sir Dain," Jon was saying, "Even our pages and squires know how to handle a sword against a full knight. But since our honour and our teachers are in question, perhaps we must show you what a Tortallan can do."

The young knight, Dain readjusted his sword belt. "Bring on your 'champion.' I am sure that I can prove Tusaine's superiority over any man in your court."

Jon smiled ironically, and Will caught his slight nod to Alan. His jaw going slack, the Old One watched as Alan handed his wine pitcher to an equally shocked Douglass. Then again, he thought, it would be an amazing tactical stroke against Tusaine if Alan were to win the duel. And if he didn't… Will didn't want to consider that.

"Not our 'champion,'" Jon was saying to the other knight, "But even our pages and squires."

By now, Alan had reached Jon's small group. With her being so close to Dain, Will was able to see exactly how much they differed in size. Dain was almost a head taller than Alan, and very broad shouldered. Will gulped, he'd fought Alan before, and he was very good, even brilliant, but could his speed and skill outmatch the brute strength of this Tusainian opponent?

"Your Highness?" she asked, bowing to him.

Prince Jonathon beckoned to her, "I'm sure my personal squire, Alan, would oblige you." He looked back at Dain, his eyes glinting strangely.

"Y—Yo – You want me to duel with a _squire_?" His voice was shocked and outraged, "I do not waste talent such as mine on mere boys!"

"Are you afraid?" Jonathon asked mildly.

Dain's face twisted into a scornful snarl.

"I've fought six duels!" he spluttered, "I've been killing mountain bandits since I was smaller than _him._" He looked at Alan with contempt, "If I was _ever_ smaller than him!"

It was Alan's turn to add fuel to the fire, "Do you need me for something, my Lord Prince?" she asked, as if oblivious to the other knight's words.

"I thought you might fence with Sir Dain, Alan," Jon shrugged, his eyes never leaving Dain's face, "But it appears that he's no longer interested. I'm sorry I called you over hear for noth—"

"By Mithros, I'll do it!" snapped Dain, "I fear no child!"

Jonathan turned to his parents, bowing as he did so.

"If your Majesties would excuse us, we would like to go to the fencing gallery."

The party looked expectantly at King Roald.

"I think this is something we would all like to see. Ambassador Mikal. Lady Aenne. My Lady?"

In a sudden flurry of activity, servants were sent to prepare the largest of practice courts. Duke Gareth's own personal manservant went to fetch Lighting, as Alan, her friends, and all the other courtiers prepared to leave for the fencing match – all except Will of course.

Under the pretence of returning his wine pitcher to the kitchen Will slipped away from the crowd – he had work to do. He had sensed many messengers of the Dark in the Embassy, and it was time to investigate them. After hiding the half filled jug behind a large tapestry, he began to make his way to the Embassy's guest quarters. With luck, the rooms would not be heavily guarded.

Will did not worry about one of his friends noticing his absence; everyone was so preoccupied with Alan and Dain's duel that it was extremely unlikely that anyone would realize that he had never returned from his errand. And if they did, well a simple memory altering spell would smooth it all over.

Walking swiftly through the Palace's mazelike halls, Will let his senses as an Old One guide him to any quarters that a dark messenger had inhabited. It was rather like a hound following a scent: he could smell a dank odour and feel a strange chill in the air whenever he entered a room that was occupied by those of the Dark. As he drew closer to his goal, the stench and chill also grew.

Finally he had reached a long corridor lined heavy wooden doors, each identical. Will's nose twitched – there were at least three members of the Dark who were staying in this hallway. Walking slowly, the Watchman made his way down, passing each door with his senses alert. He froze; four doors down to his right. He'd found one.

When he reached it, Will noticed, the door appeared no different than all of the others. It was plain, oak, and very solid. Cautiously bending over, Will knelt to examine it. He would not chance touching it, only to be the victim of some Dark enchantment. Will said a word in Old Speech. The door did not glow or show any reaction to his spell; the door was not magicked in any way that he could detect.

Carefully Will reached out to touch the handle, ready to withdraw his hand in a moments notice. His fingers met only cool iron. Grasping his hands around the door handle, Will tensed then with a deep breath, tugged firmly on it. It didn't budge.

Will frowned, and once again pulled on the handle. And once again the door did move and inch. Sighing, he kneeled down, pressing his eye closer to the keyhole. It looked fairly basic, and George's men _had_ taught the Old One some basic lock picking skills… He shook his head, wondering what he could use as a pick. At the Dancing Dove, he had seen George's man Lightfingers jiggle a thin twisted metal strip around until the satisfying click was heard.

"Will!" The sudden shout made Will wheel around, surprised.

A shadowy figure stood at the end of the hall. The Old One watched it, frozen.

"Will is that you? It's me Gary…" The burly knight stepped forward and with relief Will saw that it was indeed Gary. He walked up to Will, who was still silent, pressed up against the door of his enemy.

His knight master reached him and frowned. "Where have you been? And what the devil are you doing in here?"

"Uhh…" Will began, frantically trying to think of a plausible reason for his presence in the dark corridor nowhere near the kitchens. "I...uhh…I got lost." He finished lamely.

"Hmm," the shrewd Gary replied, not completely sure of his friend's honesty.

"Well, no matter. You must not of heard the news – Alan won the duel! Oh, you should been there. That foul, would-be knight Dain had it coming! Let's go back to the party – everyone's celebrating!"

Gary's half formed suspicions seemingly evaporated has he talked more about Alan's exploits.

With one last glance at the Dark Agent's door, Will allowed himself to be led away, back to the festivities and those of the Dark.

Well. It's over for now. I have ideas, but I've yet to write them out. Please read and review… suggestions, comments, etc?


	12. A Cry of War

**Title: And One Go Alone Author: Norah-hunt**

**Summary:** After the last great rising, it is not Merriman that is destined to go alone. High magic has other plans for Will Stanton, last of the Old Ones. And it is the will of the gods which Will is transported into the world of Tortall, in which Alanna of Trebond masquerades as a boy, and Roger the Duke of Conte plots to overthrow the throne. Yes, the Dark has been banished from our world, but its small wings still have some control and power in the distant places of the universe, outside of our time. It's a Dark Is Rising/Song Of The Lioness Crossover, so please humour me and read it. :p

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own Will or Alanna or any other characters, places, ideas and concepts mentioned in this story.

A/N: Once again I'm sorry that I've been so inconsistent with this. I've been monstrously busy and sometimes I just totally forget about it. However, I will strive to finish it, even if it does take a rather long time. Be patient. And you might want to reread it all, in case you've forgotten what's going on. :P

Thanks.

* * *

From the night after Alanna's now legendary duel, the Tortallan and Tusainian relations did nothing but deteriorate. Angry voices rose during negotiations as each side bristled over some comment made by the other. Parties were no longer a social occasion; they turned into tense shouting matches, with knights on either side issuing challenges that went beyond friendly competition.

Finally, after two weeks of heated discussion it seemed there was no hope of peace between the two kingdoms. The embassy left hastily, their departure heralded with little pomp and grandeur. They were jeered by the Tortallan common folk as they slipped through the city streets and word began to sweep across the country like wildfire.

It was war.

This announcement brought an immediate and profound difference to those who lived in the Palace. All lessons for the squires were postponed until further notice: the squires would be riding out to war, while the pages stayed at the Palace.

Messenger pigeons were constantly coming and going as Tortall was called to arms. Nearby towns swelled with men as they answered the Call to Muster. Camps were set up where soldiers were outfitted, trained, and where supplies were gathered. Knights also returned from their country estates, dressed in shining plated battle armour.

A week after Ambassador Mikal's hurried departure, Tortall had mobilized its armies and readied itself for war. That week was especially hectic for Will. Although he didn't have any classes, it seemed to him that he was always running one errand or another. Being personal squire to the man that was to inherit one of the most influential titles in all of Tortall was certainly a busy task.

Will was also occupied by his wonderings over what the Dark might gain through this war. He didn't like that Duke Roger would have such a large say in Tortall's battle strategies. As a squire, Will was not privy to the councils in which the battle plans were drawn. Only the information deemed relevant to him would he be told of. Given the time, Will would have cloaked his presence and spied upon the councils. However, in the flurry of preparation, he received no such opportunity.

Although Will had the sword he bought from Merriman, he did not have any armour. He spent one of his afternoons crammed in an already full armoury, waiting to be equipped. The armoury was dank, and smelled of leather, grease and sweat. After being fitted with a chain mail tunic, steel helmet, gauntlets, and shin guards, the Old One was relieved to be away. As a squire, Will could not wear full battle armour. Instead he would wear mail and a thick leather jerkin bearing the crest of his knight master, Gareth of Naxen. It was much lighter than the plate armour, Will discovered, and for that he was grateful.

* * *

Dressed in his newly fitted armour, Will sat mounted upon Emma, who fidgeted restlessly. In front of him Gary and Jon sat upon their horses as well. Both were conversing earnestly with Duke Gareth, who had summoned the initial force to assemble on the wide, sloping hill that separated the Palace from the temple district of the city. Duke Gareth was to command the initial force and they would leave soon, heading for the long fought over Valley of Drell.

Alanna was with Moonlight next to the Old One. Will turned to his fellow squire and grinned. "Not bad for only a week's time to prepare, eh?"

Alanna returned his smile and looked back out at the ranks of five thousand men standing in perfect military formation.

"Yes, that's true," she replied proudly, then suddenly her face hardened solemnly and Alanna's violet eyes turned inward as if searching for something only she could find.

"Is this your first time going to war?" She asked suddenly.

Will opened his mouth to respond when suddenly a disturbance from in front of them caused both squires to glance ahead.

Duke Gareth's horse, a large, normally good-natured chestnut was pawing the air and rolling his eyes as he screamed a high-pitched whinny. The Duke struggled to calm his panicked mount, gripping his reins hard and leaning forward to whisper soothing words in its ear. Suddenly the large chestnut pranced spiritedly forward, becoming even more agitated. The Duke's saddle slid to the side and he fell heavily, dangerously close to the thrashing hooves of the still frightened horse.

In a flash, Jon had dismounted and grabbed the reins of his uncle's horse.

"Hold your formation!" he roared as a dozen men scurried forward to help.

They stepped quickly back into place, while Gary practically flew off his horse in an attempt to reach is father. The big knight bent over and scooped up the Duke who had managed to avoid being crushed by his horse's flailing hooves.

"Send for a healer!" he shouted as the Duke groaned and reached for his leg.

Duke Baird, the chief healer, was soon at the side of Duke Gareth, whose face was white with pain. Will watched grimly, feeling that their commander's untimely accident was really no accident at all. He twisted around in Emma's saddle searching for a glimpse of a stealthily retreating figure, the one responsible for spooking the Duke's horse. Unease trickled through the Old One as he turned back to find Duke Baird rising from Duke Gareth's side.

A slight commotion was caused by the arrival of King Roald. He had learned of the incident and had come to investigate. Duke Baird, Jonathon, and the King quickly slipped over to the side, out of earshot from Will. The stood conversing quietly, their serious faces expressing their concern.

Will shot a troubled glance to his friend, Alan. To his surprise, the small squire didn't return it. Instead she sat rigid on her horse, gripping the reigns so tightly that the normally docile Moonlight began to paw the ground nervously.

The Old One looked back at the conversing trio and after a moment's hesitation, willed himself to hear their words…

"Three places, you say?" King Roald asked, his brow furrowed with worry.

"I'm afraid so, Your Majesty. His femur has two fractures in it, and there's a third just below the knee." The head healer replied, "There is absolutely no way he will be fit to command before you leave."

"Yes…" murmured the King thoughtfully, "I shall have to appoint a new commander of the initial force soon."

He turned abruptly to his son, "Jonathon, we must at once hold a War Council. Tell the other lords to gather in the Palace immediately; a new commander must be found as soon as possible."

* * *

The next morning all of the Tortallan commanders were summoned to a meeting by their new commander, Duke Roger. Will and Alanna were present too as the Duke outlined his plans. Will watched warily and scrutinized the Rider's words, looking for hidden motives. He was relieved to learn that he, Gary, Alanna, and Raoul would be serving in Jonathan's personal unit. If the Dark was planning an attack, he wanted to be near his friends, ready to defend them.

Referring to an elaborate and detailed map of the Drell Valley frequently, Duke Roger outlined his strategy. The valley was a fertile basin of green fields and forest, with the river snaking lazily through it. However, at one end of the dale, the gentle slopes steepened sharply and the river gurgled frantically over a stretch of rapids. Beyond the rapids were the falls themselves: wide, tall and powerful, the white spray misting the earth in a great circle around the falls. It was at the widest part of the river that the Tusaine camp clustered on the right bank. Across from it, Fort Drell stood proud on the left bank; it would be here that the bulk of the Tortallan troops would be stationed. Lord Imrah of Legann's force would be concentrated above the fort, but directly just below the Drell Falls Prince Jonathan would be stationed.

Will listened thoughtfully as the Duke outlined his reasoning.

"At the falls we have an interesting situation," his honeyed voice was saying, "The River is wide, but shallow and a determined enemy could ford through there – despite the strong current. On a foggy night it is possible that they might slip past our sentries. However, Lord Imrah is within close reach if the need for back up arose. I will also be sending the current garrison stationed at Fort Drell."

He glanced briefly around the room, and then continued confidently.

"I feel this will provide my cousin with an excellent opportunity to ease into command. Here he shall not be in any undue danger and I thought it best that Sir Myles be stationed with him as his advisor."

Will saw Jonathan stiffen, while Sir Myles remarked dryly, "Ah yes, a knight with a rather meagre amount of battle experience…"

The Old One exchanged a glance with Alanna, who was standing rigidly behind Jonathan's chair. Duke Gareth had intended for the Prince to be stationed with him at Fort Drell, so that he might see first hand how war was waged. It appeared that Duke Roger didn't share his sentiments. As King Roald rose to speak, Will pondered this.

"We have but one thing to add," said the King formally, "Until we have thought fully through the moral issues of our holding the right bank, which was Tusaine's until our honoured father's time, you have our royal command to defend _the left bank_ of the river only. _You may not cross,_ in pursuit or in seeking active battle."

At his words the commanders stirred and murmured. Will's eyes narrowed as he watched Duke Roger's smug face. The King's voice flicked out like a lash.

"We fight for the left bank only. See to it."

The lords stood and bowed as King Roald made his exit. Lord Hamrath of the King's Reach sighed heavily.

"Rest up, lads," He advised as the door clicked quietly shut, "It's going to be a long summer." He turned to Duke Roger, "Your Grace?"

Duke Roger surveyed them for a moment, then, "That is all. We ride tomorrow an hour past dawn."

* * *

All of Will's preparations had been made some days ago and he found he was left with a few spare hours before it was time to retire for bed. He sought the now familiar path that led to the forest clearing where he and Faithful had conversed when he'd just arrived at the capital.

He sat on the smooth stone of the boulder, watching the sky warm from a cool blue to the richer shades of pink and red as the sun melted down lower in the sky. The first stars began to appear and Will wondered briefly if one of them belonged to his own world. Then, with a small shrug he turned his gaze away from the ethereal ceiling and fixed it upon a small clump of bushes.

He was not disappointed. There was a short pause, and then the sound of soft swearing began to drift out from behind a patch of prickly undergrowth.

"Hello, Alan," the Old One called and his red headed friend popped out from behind the bushes.

Alanna had the good grace to look embarrassed as she faced Will.

"I'm sorry," She began guiltily, "I saw you leave the Palace and I wanted to talk to you, so I followed, thinking I'd catch up quickly…"

Her voice trailed off and she looked nervously at Will. The Old One smiled and indicated with a gesture to come sit by him.

"Don't worry," He said, "I found this clearing just after I arrived here. I got lost exploring the grounds and came across it. It really is peaceful. I find it helps me sort out my thoughts." He looked sharply over at Alanna, who looked down at her booted feet.

More gently, Will asked, "Alan, why don't you trust the Duke?"

She gave a small start and glanced quickly up at him.

"Who told you that?" She hedged cautiously.

"No one," replied Will, "but then again, no one needed to. I've seen you around him and heard how you talk of him. He makes you nervous. He's handsome and charming – a court favourite for sure, yet being around him seems to set you on edge. We ride out tomorrow not just to defend the Drell River, but Prince Jonathan. Why do I get the feeling that you think that the Prince might be in danger, and its source lies closer than just across the river?"

Alanna opened her mouth to speak, then decided otherwise. She was unprepared for this frank appraisal of her feelings towards the Duke of Conté. She considered telling him that she thought him crazy, that only a fool wouldn't be enamoured with the Princes charming, talented cousin. Then., she remembered the Goddess' words to her: she must learn to trust the Old One. The hair on the nape of her neck rose as she peered around at the clearing, dappled with the lengthening shadows of the surrounding trees. Rowan trees. The trees claimed by the Goddess as her own.

Will didn't look old, not old enough to be an 'Old One', but…something clicked into place inside Alanna and that decided her. She told him of her suspicions. Of the Sweating Sickness, of the Black City, and of how Duke Roger would benefit if Jon were to suddenly have an accident. All throughout her explanation Will remained silent, his eyes wise and thoughtful. _Perhaps he is Old after all,_ Alanna thought briefly, before dismissing the thought as silliness. Still, he did not immediately laugh, or get angry as Jon did, nor did he denounce her immediately as a traitor or just jealous.

She paused, almost breathlessly, having run out of words and anxious to hear what her friend thought of her fears. Will was silent for a moment; he rested the tips of his splayed fingers on this lips and pursed them consideringly. When he spoke, his words were not those that Alanna had expected.

"I can see why that would make you uncomfortable around the Duke," Will said mildly.

Alanna stared at him unbelievingly, "_Uncomfortable_? I'm never more _uncomfortable_ than when I'm around that snake of a man. How c—"

"I share your suspicions," Will cut her off swiftly, "But I can't tell you why – not now and not soon. Eventually, I will explain everything…"

Violet eyes met those as deep and grey as a northern sea.

"Please," Will said seriously, "I need you to trust me. To trust that I will do everything I can to stop Duke Roger and what you fear, even if I can't tell you exactly what I'm doing, exactly what I think. Please, trust me."

Alanna's eyes widened, "Who _are_ you?" She asked softly.

Will cast his eyes downward and gave a choked laugh, "I am what I was born to be."

When he looked up, Alanna read in his eyes an agelessness that frightened her. It was incongruent with her friend's light, young face. The Goddess' voice floated through her thoughts: _Old One._

"I will trust you," Alanna replied, the hair on her neck rising. Their locked gazes broke and Alanna stirred, looking up at the darkening sky.

"We should back," She said softly.

"Yes," Will replied, his eyes normal again. "Let's go. We've got a long day of travelling ahead of us."

They silently made their way back to the Palace and at the hallway where their paths diverged Will placed a hand on Alanna's arm.

She turned back to him.

"Thanks," was all he said before releasing her sleeve and walking down the stone corridor that led to his own quarters.

* * *

After that followed twelve dusty days of travel eastward towards the Drell River Valley. When they finally reached their destination, Gary dropped back to ride beside his squire.

"Look, Will," He said, standing up in his stirrups and pointing, "Across the River."

Will lifted himself up as well and across the river a myriad of tents and thousands of men in Tusaine colours could be seen swarming about their main encampment. Before the Tortallan column Fort Dress rose up and beyond that a thin sliver of silver could be seen between the trees.

"The Drell River Falls," Will heard Alanna say from beside him. "Our new home."

In response, Alanna's black cat Faithful yowled from his saddle cup.

They had arrived.

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A/N: Another chapter, another six months. Who knows, maybe it'll be a bit quicker next time…

Reviews help. They really do. 3


	13. The War Horns' Call

**Title: And One Go Alone Author: Norah-hunt**

**Summary:** After the last great rising, it is not Merriman that is destined to go alone. High magic has other plans for Will Stanton, last of the Old Ones. And it is the will of the gods which Will is transported into the world of Tortall, in which Alanna of Trebond masquerades as a boy, and Roger the Duke of Conte plots to overthrow the throne. Yes, the Dark has been banished from our world, but its small wings still have some control and power in the distant places of the universe, outside of our time. It's a Dark Is Rising/Song Of The Lioness Crossover, so please humour me and read it. :p

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own Will or Alanna or any other characters, places, ideas and concepts mentioned in this story.

A/N: I'm on a roll! Two chapters in less than a month??? Wow. ;P

Anyways, thanks to everyone who has stuck with this and I appreciate the reviews that you took the time to write. This is a longer chapter, so I hope you enjoy. There's action in this one!

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Chapter 12: The War Horns' Call

The arrival of Prince Jonathan's force was greeted by a group of grim-faced veteran soldiers from the Fort. Their experience showed in how the camp was set up; the neat military lines bespoke of long weeks of practice. Each soldier looked like he was prepared to fight in less than two minutes notice. Will, who was looking after Gary's gear, and Alanna, in charge of Sir Myles and Prince Jonathan's belongings, were both pleased to find that tents had already been erected for their knight masters. All that was left for them to do was arrange their personal gear inside it and see to their horses.

It was noon by the time they had finished, and with Gary, Prince Jonathan, and Sir Myles at the Fort for a strategy briefing, Will and Alanna effectively had a few hours to themselves. Will left Gary's mare, Odyssia, at the makeshift stables before following his nose to an always bustling tent in any camp: the mess. After heaping his plate high with beans, meat, and thick slices of warm bread, he spotted his friend's flaming head of hair nestled in amongst a group of tough looking veterans. As he made his way over, raised voices drifted over the din from their table.

"I spy for no one, you remember that, _Jem Tanner_," Alanna had stood up, her face white with anger and her chin gutting aggressively forward. "And keep a civil tongue in your head!"

The man these words were directed at stood across the table from them, slightly apart from the main group. His slim build was reasting comfortably in a stance of perfect arrogance.

"Big words, little fellow!" He laughed mockingly.

Will was about to intervene with a shout of his own when another ginger haired giant placed a huge hand on Alanna's shoulder and said, "You're right to pick quick fights with strange-lads who're better raised than you. When will you be so quick to pick a fight with _me_?"

The man sneered, "I was doing you a favour, warning you of a royal spy in your midst, my stupid friends." He left the tents with a venomous glance back at Alanna.

Will reached the table, "Who was that?" He asked, "Didn't seem like a very pleasant fellow to me."

Alanna looked up at him, breathing deeply and trying, he knew, to keep her famous temper under control.

The giant that stood beside her answered for Alanna, "That's Jem Tanner. Don't you be worryin' over him though. He's a bad apple all right," He turned to Alanna, "You don't think nothin' of his words, right? They mean nothin'."

This seemed to calm Alanna slightly. Well, enough for her to sit back down and make room on the crammed bench for Will to squeeze in. Upon sitting down, Will was introduced to soldiers, many of which had been fighting here for weeks. The big giant that had calmed Alanna and sent Jem Tanner snarling away was Thor.

_A fitting name_, Will thought with a wry smile as he observed the man's massive arms and thickly muscled chest.

Soon he was being plied with questions about his own name and where he came from.

"My name's Will; I'm squire to Sir Gareth the Younger," Will replied with an easy grin. This statement was greeted with surprised looks and a few whistles. The squires of some of the most powerful knights in the realm were sitting at their table.

Soon he and Alanna were pressed into providing all the latest news from the capital, although it was Alanna that did most of the talking. Amid raised eyebrows, Will confessed that he had only recently come to Corus and hadn't had that much time to familiarize it with himself.

The conversation progressed, and without anyone realizing it, the two squires spent a cheerful afternoon conversing among friends.

* * *

In the days that followed, Will and Alanna developed a routine. In the morning, they cared for their masters' gear and belongings. After tidying up the tents, Will and Alanna would report to the stables where they cared for their own horses and their masters'. After this, they would usually exercise the horses, sometimes riding together, sometimes riding separately. Noon and early afternoon was spent among the men that they had met on their first day. The rest of the afternoon was spent with Big Thor and his friends in the practice courts. All and all, Alanna thought it was a fair exchange: she learned a lot about the spear and the axe and was able to teach them or thing or two about the sword. She was also pleased to note that she could hold her own against them when it came to knife fighting. She sent a private prayer of thanks to George for teaching her those long years ago. Will, she was surprised to see, was a superb marksman. At the Palace it had been too busy and hectic to train in the days leading up to their departure and she'd only duelled with him a handful of times. His archery skills had gone untested until now, but Will possessed great skill with the bow.

Will too began to enjoy the routine. Never far from the forefront of his mind was his purpose for being there and he always was thinking about Duke Roger, contemplating what the Dark might be planning. Still, these afternoons provided some much needed respite for the teenage boy that lived within the Old One.

The early evenings were devoted to study with Myles. These lessons were held in the knight's tent and included the history of both Tortall and Tusaine. It was better to be educated and to know you're enemy, than to rush into battle, fuelled by blind hate. Will agreed, seeing the wisdom in his words.

After their evening meal, the knights were sent on patrol while Myles and Jonathan returned to the fort for more meetings with Duke Roger. During those evenings, Alanna either spent them chatting with Will, or among Big Thor and the rest of the soldiers. It was hear that she learned a variety of useful skills that would never have been taught at court. She learned to throw dice, without losing every copper she had; she learned rude songs that would make even the hardiest sailor blush; she learned to bond, to overcome the social gulf that separated her from those not of noble blood. She'd had some experience in this during her forays to the Dancing Dove with George, but this was different some how.

On the nights that Will didn't accompany her, Alanna sometimes wondered where he went. Although, he never told her and she never asked. He was always back in his tent by the time she returned from the fireside and Big Thor. No one seemed to notice his strange disappearances, but they reminded her all too clearly of his eerie words in the clearing on the eve of their departure. She was also reminded of her promise: that she would trust him. That promise was mainly what kept her from asking about where he went.

Will was grateful for her silence, although not unaware of her curiosity. He spent some of his nights at the castle, spying on the war councils; others were spent across the river, looking in on the enemy's camp; some Will spent in quiet meditation, searching for some sign from Merriman or the Lady that he had not strayed from his path. He knew he must find the sword, Míriel, if we was to succeed in banishing the Dark from this world, but there was no prophecy, no words to guide him. He had only his instinct and the knowledge that somehow Alanna was tied up in all this. The first time Will saw her sword he had immediately known of its origin: it was made by the Old Ones. He sharp memory would also take him back to the Great Hall of Time, with its magical tapestries blanketing the walls. He felt sure that the blazing knight depicted in the tapestries was Alanna.

Tonight was one such night and Will found himself sitting on a log overlooking the river and contemplating the last two and a half weeks that they had camped at the falls. There had been skirmishes, but they were always up or down river of the fort and both Lord Hamrath and Lord Imrah saw action. Will and Alanna had not fought yet as the skirmishes were always too far away from their camp; it would be over by the time they reached the battle field. Will noticed that the war seemed to be taking it's toll on Alanna: she had been getting progressively tense over the past week and two days ago she had worked herself to exhaustion in the healer's tent.

Suddenly his thoughts were disturbed by the harsh notes of a war horn. The three sharp blasts signalled their camp was under attack and summoned all to arms. Will leapt to his feet and was sprinting towards with the speed only an Old One can have when a snap made him freeze in mid stride. Without hesitation, he stopped his headlong gallop back to camp and slid noiselessly behind a clump of bushes. He sat still, his ears pricked and heart hammering. Yes, there it was again; a twig snapped and the sound of metal on stone. The enemy was near.

Will fought back a rising tide of emotions and forced the cold, calm Old One to the forefront of his being. His heightened senses assessed the situation: a scouting party, ten infantry soldiers and two knights. They could be easily despatched of, but a cold dread began to creep up him at the thought. What right did he have to take the lives of these men? He was not of Tortall, and they were probably just acting on orders. They had not threatened him yet and a quick spell revealed that they were not of the Dark. Freezing time would also alert Duke Roger of his whereabouts. Will cursed softly from his perch in the bushes; he would have to make a run for it. As the sounds of chinking armour drew impossibly close, Will suddenly sprang up from his hiding place and moved away in a blur of motion.

His quick movements drew gasps of surprise from the men in Tusainian colours, but by the time one had notched an arrow to his bow, Will was out of range. He dashed through the forest until the sounds of the horns grew louder and at last he could see the lights of the falls camp ahead. He slowed his pace to something more normal and ran into camp to see Gary, Will's knight master, hurrying towards him in full plate armour.

"Will!" he called, "Where the devil have you been? Both Jon and Imrah have lost two sentries and Tusaine has launched a major attack between camps. Come, get your mail on and saddle Odyssia and your horse. Jon's having everyone form a semicircle around the point; we're going to shove them off our land and then help Imrah. Let's hope the soldiers from the fort won't be too late to help either of us."

Will nodded grimly, "I heard the horns and just barely got away when I stumbled upon a scouting party."

Gary opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. "Mithros, Will!" he exclaimed, then shaking his head, ordered, "Go, go get ready. I've a feeling that there will be many more close calls this cursed night."

Will did as he was bid and encountered Alanna saddling Darkness and Moonlight as he went to saddle Gary's horse and Emma. Her face looked strained in the flickering light of the hastily lit torches. This would be the first time either of them went into battle. Just as Alanna was cinching Darkness' saddle Jon appeared behind her. Will turned away, preferring not to intrude upon their conversation. Still, their voices drifted over and Will involuntarily was party to words

"I take it you told Faithful to stay out of the fighting." Jon said, mounting Darkness.

"He may even obey me for a change," Alanna replied wryly.

She felt a strong hand on her shoulder and looked up into Jon's worried face. "I guess I can't tell you the same, can I?" He whispered.

"The biggest attack this summer, and I'm supposed to hide in my tent?" Alanna gasped, astonished. "And me your squire? Are you out of your mind?"

"Against one warrior, I can't worry; you've proven yourself too many times. But against an entire army—" Jon was cut off by Alanna's firm voice.

"I have my duty, Highness. And this is _my_ home too. I'm trained to defend it, and defend it I will."

Jonathan sighed, and placed his helmet on this head. "You know where to find me when you're armed." He said, before urging Darkness forward.

Will was about to turn back to Alanna, when Gary strode up, a similar worried look in his eye. Silently Will offered him the reins of his mare and as he mounted, Gary opened his mouth to speak.

"Look, Will –" he began, but was prevented from saying anything further as Will cut sharply in.

"Gary," He said seriously, "Please do not worry. I have seen war before and I know how to handle myself. Now please, go; Prince Jonathan needs you."

Gary's mouth fitted itself into a grim line and he nodded curtly before digging his heels sharply into Oddyssia's side and catching up with Jon's armoured form.

Quickly, Will finished saddling Emma while he pondered what he had just said. Even if he had never fought in a battle such as this, what Will said was true: he had spent many years of his life locked in a never ending war with the Dark. In fact, that war still waged on and would continue long after this night attack was over. He glanced over at Alanna, who was making final adjustments to her own horse's tack.

After doing that she turned to her friend, grey eyed and strange. She gave an awful parody of a smile.

"Nothing to it, eh?" She said, before hurrying off on Moonlight to retrieve her own mail and leather jerkin.

Will, already wearing his mail and leather ran quickly pack to his tent to pick up his bow and arrow. A plan was quickly developing in his mind: his honour and conscious would not let him kill others, but he couldn't allow Alanna, Gary, Jon, or any of his other friends die either. Instead, he could find a tree with a good view of the battle and wound anyone who seemed to be threatening his friends.

He found a rowan tree on the outskirts of the battlefield and had an almost unobstructed view of what was going on. Across from him he could see Alanna arriving on Moonlight. They both were some of the last to arrive. Will scanned the scene before him. The enemy had advanced past the trees and were engaging Prince Jonathan's men in the clearing around the main path. The Prince's armour gleamed silver and sapphire as he fought. Beside him was Sir Myles and both of them were flanked by Raoul and Gary. So far the enemy was finding it difficult to get past the two big knights in order to hurt the Prince and his advisor.

Will cursed as he saw a sudden shift in the battle. The Tusaine forces had cunningly slipped past the Tortallans and were coming at Jon from the back in a pincer movement. Alanna seemed to see the danger too as he heard her raise her voice in a loud shout.

"To me, men of Fort Drell!" She bellowed, "To me!"

She became the rallying point for a swarm of soldiers in Tortallan colours. They charged ahead, led by a slender youth with fiery hair and a golden mare. The attack took the Tusaine men by surprise and they were forced to leave off their attack or be hacked to pieces by the tough foot soldiers.

From his perch in the tree, Will drew his bow and took careful aim. A blue fletched arrow sang through the air and pierced the soldier that was sneaking up on Gary in his shoulder. He fell back with a cry. Gary looked up and spotted Will in his tree. He him a quick salute of thanks before once more plunging into the fray, a herald of death for anyone that dared to attack the Prince.

A shout drew Will's attention back Alanna.

"Alan!" Someone cried, "The knight!"

She brought her shield of quickly, just in time to intercept a numbing blow from a mace. Will noted with dread that the knight advancing on his friend was massive; he wore his thick, plated armour like it was air. Quickly, Will aimed and fired, but the arrow had no affect. It found its mark, only to be ripped out by the big man as if it were nothing. Will swore and drew another arrow, but was too late. Now the knight and Alanna were entwined in their duel and it would be impossible to safely fire an arrow without accidentally wounding his friend.

It seemed Alanna was struggling just to ward off his maelstrom of attacks. She gripped Moonlight's reins in her teeth and guided the mare expertly with her knees. So far she had managed to doggedly block all of his blows, but her shield was riddled with dents and it wouldn't be long before the metal completely crumpled. Suddenly, as the knight lifted both arms to deliver the blow that would shatter both her arm and shield, Will saw Alanna dart forward faster than he thought possible and thrust Lightning into small opening between the arm plates and chest plates. She struck deep and true; with a gasp of surprise, the big knight slid limply from his mount, dead.

Will's sharp eyes spotted a flash of movement behind her and he swiftly brought up his bow and fired. A knight screamed in pain as a blue fletched arrow embedded itself in the shoulder of his sword arm, rendering it useless. Alanna looked up into the trees and was astonished to see Will, standing on a branch with his bow at the ready.

She was about to turn back to the fight in search of Jon when she saw with horror a Tusaine archer take aim and fire an arrow that sailed expertly through the air. It struck Will in the chest and with an anguished cry she fought her way over to the archer and slew him with a single thrust from Lightning. She looked frantically back over to the tree that Will had been perched in. Her stomach dropped a thousand feet; he wasn't there.

Blinking tears away, Alanna turned to block another attack from a knight. She clenched her teeth and fought viciously as suddenly a loud cry ripped through the air.

"Tortall!" The shout was loud and clear over the clash of weapons and agonized screams. "Tortall for Trebond!"

Alanna's attacker glanced quickly over at Jonathan, who was fighting his way towards her. Alanna took a chance and sent her sword flying, at the same time wounding him deeply in the shoulder. She pushed herself between Jon and Myles, while the rest of the men formed a tight, protective circle around them.

Despite the nearness of the men, Alanna still felt uneasy. She scanned the area for trouble and stopped as a glint in the trees caught her eye. It was an archer in Tusaine colours, with his bow at the ready. Her mouth went dry as she realized his target.

With a wordless yell, Alanna hurled herself from her saddle, half knocking Jonathan from Darkness' back. The arrow bounced off Jon's shield and one of the Tortallan archers easily despatched of the Tusainian assassin. With Myles' help, Jonathan righted himself in his saddle once more.

"Thanks," he said shakily, looking over at Alanna, "You—"

He was interrupted by the sound of blowing horns. Reinforcements from Fort Drell had arrived and hundreds of fresh men poured into the clearing, led by Duke Roger. The new troops pushed the enemy back through the trees, giving Jonathan's force some respite and a chance to catch their winds.

Alanna looked over at Gary, who was still standing protectively beside his cousin.

"Gary," She began falteringly as he turned a weary eye on her, "I s-saw Will. He was in the trees and—"

She didn't get any further as the Duke of Conté rode up to them. His hair was mussed and a long, bloody scratch traced itself down the side of his face.

"They took to their boats," He said with a grimace. "We can't follow; remember my Uncle's orders."

Jonathan nodded and the men began to disperse. The healers walked among the fallen with stretchers, carrying those wounded back to the healers' tents. Alanna shifted anxiously in her saddle, worrying about Will and Big Thor. She turned Moonlight around to head towards the tree in which Will had sat when something made her freeze.

Walking towards her was Emma and a healthy, if worn, looking Will. It was impossible! She had seen the arrow take him right in the heart – no man could survive that. Her jaws worked, but no sound came out.

"Will!" she heard Gary cry from beside her. They both dismounted and ran to meet each other. The big knight gave his squire a firm pat on the back the nearly brought him to his knees. The exchanged some hurried words and suddenly Alanna saw Gary notice the blood drenching the front of his tunic and leather jerkin.

"Is that yours?" Gary exclaimed, worriedly, "Quick, we must get you to a healer!"

Will shrugged him off, saying, "No, Gary, don't worry; it's not mine."

Alanna's insides churned. She knew what she'd seen and she had no doubt about it that the blood soaking his her friend's tunic _was_ his. The hair on her neck rose as she once again wondered just what her mysterious friend Will was. For all his claims about a lack of Gift, Alanna suspected otherwise. But still, Duke Roger, the most powerful mage in the entire realm, had pronounced him Giftless. Confusion and unease vied within her as she glanced between the Duke, who was talking with Jon and Myles, and Will, who was being led away by a concerned Gary.

Suddenly, she remembered another man who she was supposed to be looking for. She wheeled Moonlight around back towards the main camp and she nearly fainted as her shoulder gave an agonizing pull. Its source was a deep gash on her arm; someone had wounded her without her realizing it. She would need to bandage it soon, but right now it was more important to find Big Thor. She spotted the watch captain among the healers and wounded and made her way over to him on Moonlight.

"Where's Big Thor?" She asked bluntly.

The grey haired man looked up at her. "I'm afraid something happened to him, Squire Alan. I've been searching…" He gestured helplessly at the bodies strewn over the battlefield around them. "But there's no body, nothing. Jem Tanner wandered into camp at the start of it all with a lump on his noggin. He says Thor knocked 'im out."

"That is a lie!" Alanna cried vehemently. She steadied Moonlight, who was fretting over the scent of blood.

The man nodded, "I don't believe him either. I know Thor; he's served under me these five years. He doesn't have a treacherous bone in his body. Jem Tanner does." He added darkly.

Alanna frowned, "Find Jem Tanner and hold him, on my orders."

The captain bowed. "As ye say, Squire Alan."

Alanna turned back to the trees, where she had been originally heading when she'd heard the splash of Tusaine boats. Thor and Jem Tanner had been on sentry duty together in that copse. She didn't believe for a second that Thor had betrayed Jem Tanner, but what if Thor had been the one betrayed? She thought hard. Where would the big soldier have gone? Back towards camp, along the river.

She set out towards the trees at a brisk trot. At the sentry post she scanned the grounded until she saw what she was looking for: there was a deep imprint in the grass, as if something heavy had been dragged through it. The trail led the river's edge, and as Alanna guided Moonlight towards the water she found a clump of bushes, squashed where something heavy had come to rest.

Moonlight sniffed at a dark stain in the dirt, then shied away in alarm. Alanna dismounted with difficulty and rubbed a handful of the damp earth between her fingers. It gave off a strong familiar smell and was saturated with thick red blood.

A wave of dizziness made her grasp at Moonlight. After steadying herself, Alanna reached deep within and drew upon her fierce core of strength. Purple fire welled within her hand and suddenly the trees and bushes around her were thrown into stark relief as her Gift illuminated the surrounding forest. There. Dark footprints along the edge of the river trailed north towards camp; she had been right in her prediction of what Thor would do.

Stumbling weakly along, Alanna held Moonlight's reins and followed the bloody footprints. She had lost a lot of blood and the effort of using her Gift was draining her quickly.

Moonlight halted and Alanna nearly fell. Her mare was nuzzling something that lay half in and half out of the water. Kneeling down, Alanna attempted to turn him over with her good arm – her other arm was useless except for giving off light. She was finally able to turn him over with Moonlight's help, but as the light revealed the ruin of his face, she wished that she hadn't been able to turn him.

"Aye," He said weakly. "They blinded me. Have you some brandy?"

With trembling hands Alanna retrieved her flask from her saddlebag and held it carefully to the man's lips.

In rasping words Thor explained what happened. Jem Tanner had betrayed them, giving the enemy a signal before thumping Thor on the head. When he came to his face had been mutilated and he could hear the horns blowing all around him.

While the big man talked, Alanna had examined him with her Gift and she could feel the life ebbing from him with every gasping breath he took. His wounds were serious and he had lost too much blood to be healed by anybody.

"Can you help me?" Thor whispered, "I'd just like to… got to sleep. I'm that tired."

Alanna's throat tightened painfully and tears welled in her eyes. She'd never purposely killed someone with her Gift before. She didn't think she could. With a strangled sob she reached out and pressed her good hand to Thor's forehead.

Her Gift lit the clearing with a deep purple fire as she said softly, "Sleep, Thor."

The man's chest stilled and a small smile graced his features. Alanna rose and smiled back at him shakily. The world spun suddenly and the ground rose up to meet her as her knees gave out.

The shadowy figure of the Black God weaved its way into her vision.

"Thor," she sighed, "You want Thor."

The Black God reached out a hand of inky darkness and gently touched her between the eyes. Alanna felt herself falling in a black pit of nothingness. She closed her eyes; if this was death, she didn't care anymore.

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Well, here it is. Hope you liked it.

I've already written the next chapter, so it should be up so. It just needs to be edited.

Reviews help. 3


	14. Perceptions

**Title: And One Go Alone Author: Norah-hunt**

**Summary:** After the last great rising, it is not Merriman that is destined to go alone. High magic has other plans for Will Stanton, last of the Old Ones. And it is the will of the gods which Will is transported into the world of Tortall, in which Alanna of Trebond masquerades as a boy, and Roger the Duke of Conte plots to overthrow the throne. Yes, the Dark has been banished from our world, but its small wings still have some control and power in the distant places of the universe, outside of our time. It's a Dark Is Rising/Song Of The Lioness Crossover, so please humour me and read it. :p

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own Will or Alanna or any other characters, places, ideas and concepts mentioned in this story.

A/N: Thanks to those that read and reviewed! Whoot 100 reviews!!! I appreciate the feedback. I'm starting the next chapter soon.

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Chapter 13: Perceptions

It was some time before Will managed to convince Gary that he was, in fact, uninjured. Despite his protests, the Old One was led away to the healing tents. The big knight was only convinced of his squire's fitness when Will eventually removed his jerkin and showed him the smooth, unscarred skin beneath.

Still, the battle had been a harrowing experience for Will. An Old One cannot die, but Will still felt the full force of the arrow striking him. The pain had been unbearable, and the subsequent fall from the tree had knocked him unconscious. The shrill cries from the horns that signalled reinforcements were what finally dragged Will from his lifeless state. When he did regain consciousness, the agony that accompanied every breath was nearly enough to make him faint again. Drawing on the fierce strength of the Light, Will healed his wound. However, the effort of that alone was enough to keep him prone for a while longer. When he finally managed to stagger up, the battle was finished and he was been greeted by a concerned Gary.

It was now sometime after midnight, and Will, along with Jonathan and Faithful, was searching along the riverbank for Alanna. After being released from the healers, Will had searched with growing concern for a sign of his red haired friend. Finally he had found the Prince, but had been alarmed to learn that Alanna had not been with him either. Together they combed the camp until a grey haired captain of the guard found them.

"Your pardon, Highness, Noble Sir," He said, bowing deeply, "I heard that you were looking for Squire Alan."

"Yes, that is correct, captain." Jonathon replied briskly, "Have you any news?"

The soldier nodded deeply. "Yes, You Highness. Squire Alan left orders that Jem Tanner be found and held. She then took Moonlight and went looking for Big Thor – he and Jem Tanner were on sentry duty when the attack occurred"

"I see," Jonathan muttered thoughtfully, "Did you see where Squire Alan was headed, soldier?"

"Towards the trees, Highness, by the river. That was where Big Thor and Jem Tanner were stationed."

"Thank you, captain." Jonathan looked closely at the soldier's lined, tired face for a moment. "Go get some rest and food, soldier," He ordered, "It's been a long night and you look like you need it."

The man nodded gratefully and bowed once more before hurrying off towards the mess.

Jon sighed worriedly and turned Darkness towards the dark grove that Alanna had ridden towards a couple hours earlier.

"Come on," he said to Will, "We must find him."

Jonathan lit their path, a sapphire blue flame created dancing shadows that flitted nervously between the trees. Will spotted fresh hoof prints in the ground and was not entirely surprised to note the dark spatters of blood that darkened the earth beside them.

"Some one is losing a lot of blood," Will commented troubled, but did not dismount.

Jonathan nodded and urged Darkness forward. "At least we're on the right path. Let's go, the faster we find Alan, the better."

They continued north for some time and it was Faithful that finally found her; she was slumped up against the riverbank, her body still bathing the surrounding trees in an eerie, violet glow. Big Thor lay beside her, his massive form half in the shallows.

Faithful gave a loud meow and raced up to Alanna, licking her face with his raspy tongue. Jon and Will quickly followed, but Will froze when he caught sight of Big Thor's butchered eyes.

"Jon…" He said softly, and the knight, occupied with caring for Alanna, stopped his inspections and looked over at Big Thor.

"Mithros," the Prince whispered softly, taking in the man's face. "He's smiling."

It was true. A small smile played on his lips, as though he was reliving a fond memory. But the ruin of his eyes made Will clench his teeth fiercely against a sudden rise of nausea and fury.

"He's no traitor," Will choked out with certainty.

"No," Jon agreed, "He's not. No one would do this to one of their own. Help me put him on Moonlight's back; we can give him a proper burial once we take him back to camp."

Together they hoisted the body of a man once so boisterous and kind onto the nervous mare's back. Moonlight sidestepped a bit as the smell of blood so near wafted into her nostrils, but she soon quieted after a few gentle words from Will.

Jon looked at him wonderingly for a moment. Will was murmuring too softly to make out his words clearly, but they didn't sound like Tortallan. With a small shake of his head, the Prince turned back to his Squire. Gently he examined her, careful to be discreet. With a curse, he noticed the blood soaked fabric of her tunic.

"Damn!" He muttered, as he examined the deep gash on her arm that still was sluggishly leaking blood. "Why couldn't you stop and see a healer first before rushing off to do something stupid?"

With a deep breath, Jon summoned his Gift and blue fire welled in his hands, and then raced from his fingers into the wound. Sweat beaded on his brow as Jon worked on knitting the damaged muscles back together. When he was finished, the skin on her arm was smooth, but Jon knew it would ache for months afterward. It was a serious injury and she had lost a lot of blood; magic couldn't fix everything.

"How is he?" Will asked from his post at Moonlight's head. He had all three of their horses' reins in his hands.

"I healed his arm," replied Jonathan, getting to his feet and shaking perspiration from his eyes. "But it was a nasty cut and the genius here just _had_ to go out after Thor before getting it properly looked after."

He bent down and gently lifted her in his arms. Faithful meowed in protest as he was dislodged from his post – directly on her chest. Jon slid her onto Darkness' back before mounting himself. Will handed him his reins then mounted Emma, keeping control of Moonlight.

They rode slowly back to the camp, with Jonathan in the lead with Alanna and Will following, leading Moonlight with her heavy burden. When they arrived at the main camp they were greeted by a group of people whose facial expressions ranged from curious to extremely concerned. Duke Roger was among those that waited.

"Cousin!" the Duke cried upon catching sight of Jon. He strode forward and began to speak heatedly. "Why in Mithros' name did you leave the camp like that? There may still be Tusainians lurking about – our patrols have not had the chance to thoroughly comb the area. It is not safe."

Jonathan eyed him coldly, "I went in search of Squire Alan, your Grace. And if you will notice, I did not go alone."

Will urged Emma forward, coming into clear view as he stepped into the pool of light shed by the torch that Roger carried. Duke Roger's eyes narrowed as he saw Will and his mouth formed itself into a thin, grim line.

_Old One._ The words echoed arrogantly through Will's mind.

_Rider_. Will replied silently, grinding his teeth as he glared at the Dark Lord.

Jon looked on in slight surprise to see his cousin and Will locked in a vicious contest of glares. He nudged Darkness forward a step.

"As you can see, cousin," He said clearly, "We found Squire Alan. Though I have healed his injury, he still needs rest. Perhaps we may be able to continue our conversation on the morrow, your Grace."

With difficulty, the Duke dragged his gaze back to Jonathan, who sat fully armoured atop his black stallion. Alan, who rested limply before him, was pale and one sleeve was stained completely red with blood. The strange cat, Faithful, crouched tensely on the youth's lap and regarded him steadily.

"Yes," the Duke rejoined smoothly, composure regained, "Both you and your Squire must be weary. Come, return to your tents and let me return to the Fort. There will be plenty of time tomorrow to discuss this night's events."

They nudged their horses closer towards the edge of camp, where the rest of the group had been waiting, slightly apart. Jon looked at them closely; none of them seemed to have noticed the odd exchange between the Duke and Will.

Duke Baird, who had been standing near to the rear of the party, suddenly pushed himself forward.

"Highness," the chief healer asked, "Have you any wounded?"

"Squire Alan was injured, but I healed his arm myself." He glanced back to where Will had dismounted and stood standing with the two pairs of reins in his hands.

"Both Squire William and myself are fine, but I'm saddened to say that we found the soldier known as Big Thor dead before we arrived."

The Prince's words drew a murmur from the gathered soldiers. Big Thor had been well liked and popular; his presence would be sorely missed. A few of the big man's friends stepped forward and claimed his body. They would take him and see him properly buried. Wearily, Jonathan rode towards his large tent and the smaller, adjoining one that was Alanna's. He brushed aside the flap and gently deposited his still unconscious Squire on his bed. Faithful, who had been following on his heels, nimbly jumped up onto the bed and settled himself down beside Alanna. Smiling slightly, Jon left them and went to see to his horse.

At the makeshift stables, Will was also currying Emma and Moonlight. Jon nodded to him briefly before getting to work on his own horse. He knew that if he wanted he could have a hostler do this for him, but there was something soothing in the rhythmic rasp of his brush as he cleaned sweat and dirt from Darkness' coat. So much had happened tonight, and although Jon had been in skirmishes before, he was still reeling from it. Surprisingly, his mind kept returning to that strange incident between his cousin and Will. He had never seen his cousin look at someone like that. It was, frankly, unnerving.

He stopped his work for a moment to look over at Will, who was similarly preoccupied with the various tasks of currying a horse.

"Will," he called hesitantly, slightly unsure if he wanted to broach the topic with the boy.

The young Squire looked up from his work. They hadn't had a chance to change yet and Will still wore his blood soaked leather jerkin and tunic. Jon, himself, still wore the sweat soaked padding that he wore under his armour, having quickly removed the majority of metal plating while he dropped off Alanna.

"Er," he said lamely, playing for time. "I, uh, I was wondering what, er, happened between you and my cousin, Duke Roger."

Jon felt the heat rise on his cheeks as Will stared back at him expressionlessly.

"Happened?" The Old One repeated with only mild interest. "I'm afraid I don't quite understand, Prince Jonathan."

Will bent over to pick up his basket of brushes and took the chance to hide his expression as he thought furiously. Jonathan was edging onto dangerous ground. He was extremely perceptive, and it could prove extremely awkward if he asked too many questions. Will didn't want to have to modify his memory. His stomach churned uneasily at the thought. He straightened and the Old One looked back expressionlessly at Jonathan.

Faced with Will's blank stare Jonathan felt his embarrassment triple and doubting thoughts began to creep into his head. Maybe he had just been imagining it… after all it had been such a long day: first the strain of a long string of strategy sessions, followed by the major attack, and lastly Alanna's disappearance. O Mithros, he hoped he hadn't offended Will or made him think he was daft. His toes curled at the thought and despite himself, Jon began to babble out excuses.

"O, don't worry about it… It was nothing – just a long day, you see. Yes, I'm rather tired, and I just thought…"

Jon abruptly closed his mouth as he realized he was gibbering.

Will smiled and brushed his brown hair from his eyes, in a gesture Jon had begun to see as habitual.

"You're right," He said, still smiling. "I'm sure it was nothing. Good night, your Highness." His tone was pleasant, but his eyes made it clear that they were finished discussing the topic.

Will gathered up his tack and left the stable, leaving the Prince to think over the day's events as he absently cared for his mount. Yes, of course it was his imagination. But still, Jon couldn't help but wonder at how quickly and effectively Will had dismissed the issue. _Maybe there was something, after all. But I won't be asking Will like that again anytime soon._ The Prince thought, and then chuckled as Darkness turned his long head back to gaze at his master before nipping him playfully on the sleeve.

Jon pushed the Squire from his mind has he gently rubbed his stallion's forelock. _If there is something, it can't be that urgent. Afterall, Will is only a Squre._

* * *

The next morning Will came to Jon's tent to visit Alanna after caring for Gary's belongings. To his surprise, Sir Myles was there, sitting quietly beside the sleeping red headed form. Faithful regarded him with apparent disinterest from his comfortable roost on the bed. The Old One bowed respectfully and addressed him formally.

"Sir Myles, it is an both an honour and surprise to meet you here." Will began, "But I would have thought you to be at the Fort. Is that not where the Duke of Conté discusses strategy with his commanders?"

The slightly shaggy knight smiled and gestured to the chair beside his. "Good morning to you, Squire William." He said, "Please sit down, and I will explain why Prince Jonathan and your Knight master have gone to the Fort, while I remain here."

Will sat down, feeling slightly exposed. He had never been alone with this man; Alanna, Gary or Jonathan had always accompanied him. Although Alanna rested on the bed beside them, her unconscious form would offer no help or support right now. They had also usually met in a more formal setting, in which Myles was the teacher and Will was the student. His keen intellect and astute observations had not gone unnoticed by Will, and he hesitated, wondering how to react to being alone with this shrewd, perceptive man.

"Now," Myles began, once he saw Will had settled. "I am not up at the Fort because no new strategies are being planned today. It will be a day of review, going over what happened in last night's attack. As I myself am no warrior and have very little insight to contribute, I pleaded weariness and asked to remain at the Falls for the morning. They also agreed that it would be a good idea to leave someone in command here until Prince Jonathan returns. In the evening, I my presence will be required when a formal report is sent to the King, but until then I may remain at camp." He glanced over Alanna, "I also wanted to watch over him."

Will nodded, relaxing slightly. "That makes sense. I hope Alan recovers soon. He was unconscious when Jonathan and I found him by the river. Has he showed any signs of waking?"

The knight shook his head. "No, and from what I've heard from both the Prince and Duke Baird is that it may be two or three days before he wakes up. He overreached himself last night and his body has shut itself down in order to recover."

He turned a sharp eye on Will suddenly, "And how are you, young Squire?"

Will shrugged. "Well enough, Sir Myles" he said with a note of finality in his voice.

The knight nodded to himself at that, as if having some private thought confirmed. It made Will feel uncomfortable and he hurriedly hunted for a change of subject, but the shaggy knight beat him to it.

"You know, Will" Myles spoke thoughtfully, "We have some strange legends in this country; legends about those that ruled here before us. Did your old knight master teach you any?"

Will shook his head mutely, uneasy and wondering where the knight was going with this.

"Well, I didn't really expect it. Not many remember the old tales any more. Anyways, the legends tell of an ancient race of immense power and wisdom. They called themselves the Old Ones."

Will stiffened, his body suddenly tense and every sense alert. On the bed Faithful stretched, meowed thoughtfully, then settled himself back down on the bed. Sir Myles continued as if he hadn't noticed Will's reactions.

"They have left us proof of their existence: immense ruins and strange artefacts of a powerful and magical nature." His eyes flicked over to where Lightning rested against a chest. "Alan's sword is one such artefact."

Will bit the side of his cheek hard and strove to keep his face expressionless, but his heart raced as he stared at the mild, slightly unkempt looking knight.

"But they left behind more than objects - they left writings. The manuscripts are very hard to decipher. There are written in a language as strange and foreign as the Old Ones themselves, but I have managed to read it. And the more I read, the more intrigued I became by this race of ancient beings. At first I thought that they were terrified of aging, but recently I have begun to think otherwise. Do you know what I think, Will?"

"I would not presume to know what a scholar such as yourself thinks, Sir Myles." Will answered, pleased that his voice was steady.

The knight gave a small chuckled. Will was unsure if the depreciating chuckle was directed inward, or at himself.

"Yes, of course." He said with a trace of irony, "Well, I will tell you what I think. This race of Old Ones weren't afraid of aging, they _couldn't_ age. They were immortals that wielded a magic different and much more powerful than the Gifts of our people today."

He gave a small pause before continuing. "The scripts also tell of another race, opposite to the Old Ones in every way. While the Old Ones were of the Light, their enemies were of the Dark. The manuscripts document parts of their never ending war, but the words are cryptic and often unclear. Our legends say that one night the Dark surprised those of the Light and drove them from these lands and that the coming of the Youngest would signify the Dark's banishment from our world."

Will could stand it no longer. He rose to his feet and nodded politely to Sir Myles. "I thank you for this information. It has given me much to think over, however, I wonder if we could continue this discussion later this afternoon. That _is_ when we are supposed to learn Tortall's history, is it not? And I'm afraid I am required elsewhere. My horse must be cared for and exercised…"

Sir Myles rose as well. "Yes, I should think we will continue this conversation later. Good day to you, Squire William."

Will sketched a hasty bow before walking quickly from the room. Myles reached over and thoughtfully rubbed Faithful's ears as he watched the Squire's retreating form.

"I wonder…" He said musingly. Faithful pressed his head against Myles' hand and purred encouragingly.

"Yes… I wonder."

* * *

In Emma's stall, Will rested his forehead against the smooth fur and hugged her neck in a loose embrace.

"O Emma," He murmured in Old Speech into her mane, "He knows, or at least suspects. First Jonathan and now Myles. What is it about these people that make them so perceptive? And how did he guess? Did he see the arrow?"

He remembered his brother, and his own actions to sooth his troubled mind. White plume moths.

"Can I trust him?" He asked the placid horse, "Or will I have to make them both forget…"

He leaned back and looked into the liquid eyes of his piebald horse. "O Emma, what am I going to do?"

* * *

The plot thickens… doo doo doo…

Thanks for reading. Please review. 


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